


. , , , - N 0 A’-' 

i .p CL^ <t f4\^<.'' /To - r A' "" 


<?'. A‘^ 

o t/V - >“ 

7, V j 

^ C,*^ o '^'yV X' 

. 0 ^" ^ ^ 




■N 

rP‘ ^ 


\ \ B 


0 K 






. ^ T 

/m^SiIiA^ rf. j 


'■ a'^ 

xO o^, > 5^4 


N 0 ■ >C.'^’ 



0 >- ' \fs - ' • 

^ -fA X’ 5 s' .) 







To ^ \V' ^ 

M^pi %_ -< ^ 

A^ V ^ ^ * i. " ■' , . -r^ ' 0 , . ^ 

< <rSS!' ' 



-i x;'^ ' 



t>. C^ 


■\ 


V a 

v'' » 







■.^\. -\'U\ 

. .A '. 

, . ^ ' , , , <• . ' u , ^ » 

H ' o Ci ‘ V ■=* * <> 

-v" V 

o p 

o % '' .' ^ 

A/. ».,«*' # .. %_>'■, .r.' ^o' :c 

A C' v^ s'- . ' // .0’ '»■ ° 

r ^ ^ * 

I'^W* 

.,v.« ,os,; 



<^' '^r 
,\V •/ 







OO' 

o.^ cf- 

. » s 


S*» V 


V 




o o' 


r** 





r 

'•^ C- <t , ’V’ r \\* 

- xV ^ ■ 






^ v'\ O ''■'/ . s <0 

.\\ VJ, “• V ,>.. 

V <r^ , V 



‘^'M^ 




« U V 

^ a\ 

V* 




. y?lr 2 ^ 


t ^ 


•0 


r . ^ 



. -.W.- ■>'''%-■,« 

'"• '■‘.aV. o'- C 


I 0-4 r^ y 

^< 0 , ^ . o - ‘ 

-r v,' " v-sA"^ » ■ 

'^ •'■ A V ^ « ''^a Vi- » 

^ o X® 

■ > ,. • , o.^' 

i> A,v 

^ V ^ if ^ 


if --J 1 .' ^ 

s'' A 0 ' ' 0 O >. ^ 

o’^ '’'IZ" -I '^-t, 

e. i. 

^0 o^, , Oi^ 

* 




V. ■-' • fc' ^ - > 

in ' - £5' -i ^ 

^o,x'‘ A o 

, V ^ 0 N 0 ^ '/^ 

.•'o ■» r-COcv '' 

. V _£^ s AV _ 


Ay '-^■'^ 
^ ■>> 


r^N' 


a; 

A ,X^ 




y 


A ' y ■o'^ < ” 

“'" y ,o'‘, 

^ VSs 0 o 

v ' 



•f. O' vj “ pfi w ^ 

CL^ Xi. ' W§^'^ = X 
y . . ^ » ■, N 0 ' ,1 0 


y V «f. ■ ■' / 

Si'^’ 'tt. V, 

■ *.i((\M/\o '■''■^y - 

■ yj ^ ^ 

\' y' ^ (< ''^ '^1 

G <* . ^ 0 « V ^ Tl • 

A> , 0 N r, ^ ’^h 

-y f -cAtv '' o 


■ y-y. 








'^o 





‘T/r. t 




.? i'. 




> yi 


i 


!»' 




¥ ; 


Itc 5. l>f 1/ 


'> . i 








S t » 1 > j 


> / 




V-? » 




I! 


"1 Tl 


I 4 






t > 


r'l 




, 1 


v> I 




t: > 




; • f 


k'- ’ . I 


* ’ « V 




1 i 


\ \ i fy 


liiii 


t » . ■ 






V 


•J ♦ 


Lit 


f I 


'ft; 


rwc 


■rj 







iis 




-. ■) 


v< 


I J‘ 


Jj - < 






<< » f 




- / ‘f 




r ^ 


-• • 


fi 


Vw* t 


LM 




J’ • 


\.\- 


u 


-i* 


» -I 


% 


tl 


4 i 


p i 


i ii^ ■ 


M' 


n 


s> 








V 


^ frt' 


vv 4 - < 

fT 


: '1 


i i 


r .i i 






tr 


% * 




it 


r<.i 


% 


I . '. i ' 


t I 






I 


if ■ 


ify K]*; 

■‘iu 






I ■> 


• 4 


• jK. 




’fif »?W 


•I I 


It-: 

<i . , 

— =*- < i i ■ 

^.:r \ 


i” 

h 








JLh: ^ 


‘ ?i 






,i\\ 




« V 


Lu‘, 


i/'l 


i^;- p 


‘ V ^ 


.> »i 


it" 


u 


‘ ^ 


\ % » - 




t5 




U| 


"'vlv. 


t V 


I r 


IW i / 




Nl*i 


t ‘ / 


v*’i\ 


n 


,1. 


I j j 


*ri 


.4- 


J'^ 


r - , 




i . .\ k t • V 




.hk 


M 


'* ( 


ill 


31 ' 


.4 s 


44 « 


:i 








14 


i\j 


Ul 






►N 




IJ . 




I -f 




1^; 


1'^ 






ci i-v^ I Mti: 


Mkiikti 


m 










Lathei's shrajik back, cowering bej ore her (page 31) 


TOM GROGAN 


BY 


FrHOPKINSON SMITH 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
CHARLES S. REINHART 







BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
dbe C^jtiersibe ]|^res0, Cambriboe 

M DCCCC 


) > ) ) 

^ J i > > ) 

> > > ) 


) » > , ) > 


) > 3 . 

) ) ) ) ) 


^ » ) ) ) ) 



) > > 


> *> 3 


) ) 


) 3 ^ > 

) ) ) 


) ) 


>^ > 



‘ r 


* 

Copyright, 1895 and 1896, 

By the century CO. 

Copyright, 1896, 

By F. HOPKINSON SMITH. 

All rights reserved. 

5 ^7 b'*- 


TWENTY FOURTH THOUSAND 


The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A, 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. ■ 


f C 
< c 
< < 


<< ^ 

C ( 
t t 


« -fr. 4 %^^ s 
“ , 
t. K. ** f. V 

I < C < C t \ S. \ 

( (< e'er. t<<< 


h < i € 

e c \ c 

t I c c i 

< e I f 

f c. < r I c 




CONTENTS 


I. 

Babcock’s Discovery . 



PAGE 

. I 

11. 

A Board Fence loses a Plank 

. 

. . 

17 

III. 

Sergeant Duffy’s Little Game 

. 

. 

• 32 

IV. 

A Walking Delegate learns a 

New Step 

60 

V. 

A Word from the Tenements . 

. 

. 

. 77 

VI. 

The Big Gray goes Hungry . 

. 

. 

86 

VII. 

The Contents of Cully’s Mail 

. 

. 

• 97 

VIII. 

Pop Mullins’s Advice 

. 

. 

no 

IX. 

What a Sparrow saw . 

0 

. 

. 126 

X. 

Cully wins by a Neck 

. 

. 

136 

XL 

A Two-Dollar Bill 

. 

. 

. 150 

XII. 

Cully’s Night out 

. 

. 

164 

XIII. 

Mr. Quigg draws a Plan 

. 

. 

CO 

XIV. 

Blossom-Week .... 

. 

. 

194 

XV. 

In the Shadow of Death . 

. 

. 

. 205 

XVI. 

A Friend in Need . 

. 

. 

223 

XVII. 

A Daniel come to Judgment . 

. 

. 

• 237 





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


13 

21 

43 

47 

53 

65 

91 

99 


Lathers shrank back, cowering before her . Frontispiece 

Patsy 

Dan McGaw 

“ I ’m her daughter Jennie ” 

“ Me name ’s Richard, sor — Richard Mullins ” . 

“ I ’ll . . . hand him this letter ” 

He had seen him walking home with Jennie from church . 

Carl Nilsson ’ 

“ I ’m givin’ it to ye straight, Dan ” 

The Union . . . appointed a committee to wait on Mr. 

Schwartz iii 

“ Do ye know their names ? ” said Tom . . . . 123 

“ What mak’ you no lak me anna more, Mees Jan ? ” . .133 

“ Dat was a close shave ! ” 147 

“ Ah, but Tom ’s a keener ” 1 51 

He carried the almost lifeless boy 173 

Billy kicked and struggled, but Cully held on . . . 181 

Above their heads the branches twined . . . , 199 

“ Now, gintlemen, I ask you to look at the clock ” . .217 

And all this seven years ago ? ” 231 


TOM GROGAN 


I 

Babcock’s discovery 

S OMETHING worried Babcock. One 
could see that from the impatient ges- 
ture with which he turned away from the 
ferry window on learning he had half an 
hour to wait. He paced the slip with hands 
deep in his pockets, his head on his chest. 
Every now and then he stopped, snapped 
open his watch and shut it again quickly, as 
if to hurry the lagging minutes. 

For the first time in years Tom Grogan, 
who had always unloaded his boats, had 
failed him. A scow loaded with stone for 
the sea-wall that Babcock was building for 
the Lighthouse Department had lain three 
days at the government dock without a 
bucket having been swung across her decks. 
His foreman had just reported that there 
was not enough material to last the concrete- 


TOM GROGAN 


mixers two hours. If Grogan did not begin 
work at once, the divers must come up. 

Heretofore to turn over to Grogan the un- 
loading of material for any submarine work 
had been like feeding grist to a mill — so 
many tons of concrete stone loaded on the 
scows by the stone crushing company had 
meant that exact amount delivered by Gro- 
gan on Babcock’s mixing-platforms twenty- 
four hours after arrival, ready for the divers 
below. This was the way Grogan had 
worked, and he had required no watching. 

Babcock’s impatience did not cease even 
when he took his seat on the upper deck of 
the ferry-boat and caught the welcome sound 
of the paddles sweeping back to the landing 
at St. George. He thought of his men stand- 
ing idle, and of the heavy penalties which 
would be inflicted by the Government if the 
winter caU^ht him before the section of wall 
was complete. It was no way to serve a 
man, he kept repeating to himself, leaving 
his gangs idle, now when the good weather 
might soon be over and a full day’s work 
could never be counted upon. Earlier in the 
season Grogan’s delay would not have been 
so serious. 


2 


BABCOCK’S DISCOVERY 


But one northeaster as yet had struck 
the work. This had carried away some of 
the upper planking — the false work of the 
coffer-dam ; but this had been repaired in a 
few hours without delay or serious damage. 
After that the Indian summer had set in — 
soft, dreamy days when the winds dozed by 
the hour, the waves nibbled along the shores, 
and the swelling breast of the ocean rose 
and fell as if in gentle clumber. 

But would this good weather last ? Bab- 
cock rose hurriedly, as this anxiety again 
took possession of him, and leaned over the 
deck-rail, scanning the sky. He did not like 
the drift of the low clouds off to the west ; 
southeasters began that way. It looked as 
though the wind might change. 

Some men would not have worried over 
these possibilities. Babcock did. He was 
that kind of man. 

When the boat touched the shore, he 
sprang over the chains, and hurried through 
the ferry-slip. 

‘‘ Keep an eye out, sir,” the bridge-tender 
called after him, — he had been directing 
him to Grogan’s house, — ‘‘perhaps Tom 
may be on the road.” 


3 


TOM GROGAN 


Then it suddenly occurred to Babcock 
that, so far as he could remember, he had 
never seen Mr. Thomas Grogan, his steve- 
dore. He knew Grogan’s name, of course, 
and would have recognized his signature 
affixed to the little cramped notes with which 
his orders were always acknowledged, but 
the man himself might have passed unno- 
ticed within three feet of him. This is not 
unusual where the work of a contractor lies 
in scattered places, and he must often de- 
pend on strangers in the several localities. 

As he hurried over the road he recalled 
the face of Grogan’s foreman, a big blond 
Swede, and that of Grogan’s daughter, a 
slender fair-haired girl, who once came to 
the office for her father’s pay ; but all efforts 
at reviving the lineaments of Grogan failed. 

With this fact clear in his mind, he felt a 
tinge of disappointment. It would have re- 
lieved his temper to unload a portion of it 
upon the offending stevedore. Nothing cools 
a man’s wrath so quickly as not knowing the 
size of the head he intends to hit. 

As he approached near enough to the sea- 
wall to distinguish the swinging booms and 
the puffs of white steam from the hoisting- 
4 


BABCOCK’S DISCOVERY 


engines, he saw that the main derrick was at 
work lowering the buckets of mixed concrete 
to the divers. Instantly his spirits rose. 
The delay on his contract might not be so 
serious. Perhaps, after all, Grogan had 
started work. 

When he reached the temporary wooden 
fence built by the Government, shutting off 
the view of the depot yard, with its coal- 
docks and machine-shops, and neared the 
small door cut through its planking, a voice 
rang out clear and strong above the din of 
the mixers : — 

‘‘ Hold on, ye wall-eyed macaroni ! Do ye 
want that fall cut Turn that snatch-block, 
Cully, and tighten up the watch-tackle. 
Here, cap’n, lend a hand. Lively now, lively, 
before I straighten out the hull gang of ye ! ’^ 

The voice had a ring of unquestioned au- 
thority. It was not quarrelsome or abusive 
or bullying — only earnest and forceful. 

“ Ease away on that guy ! Ease away, I 
tell ye ! ” it continued, rising in intensity. 
** So — all gone ! Now, haul out. Cully, and 
let that other team back up.” 

Babcock pushed open the door in the fence 
and stepped in. A loaded scow lay close be- 
5 


TOM GROGAN 


side the string-piece of the government wharf. 
Alongside its forward hatch was rigged a 
derrick with a swinging gaff. The “fair* 
led through a snatch-block in the planking 
of the dock, and operated an iron bucket 
that was hoisted by a big gray horse driven 
by a boy. A gang of men were filling these 
buckets, and a number of teams being loaded 
with their dumped contents. The captain of 
the scow was on the dock, holding the guy. 

At the foot of the derrick, within ten feet 
of Babcock, stood a woman perhaps thirty- 
five years of age, with large, clear gray eyes, 
made all the more luminous by the deep, rich 
color of her sunburnt skin. Her teeth were 
snow-white, and her light brown hair was 
neatly parted over a wide forehead. She 
wore a long ulster half concealing her well- 
rounded, muscular figure, and a black silk 
hood rolled back from her face, the strings 
falling over her broad shoulders, revealing a 
red silk scarf loosely wound about her throat, 
the two ends tucked in her bosom. Her 
feet were shod in thick-soled shoes laced 
around her well-turned ankles, and her hands 
were covered by buckskin gauntlets creased 
with wear. From the outside breast-pocket 
6 


BABCOCK’S DISCOVERY 


of her ulster protruded a time-book, from 
which dangled a pencil fastened to a hempen 
string. Every movement indicated great 
physical strength, perfect health, and a thor- 
ough control of herself and her surroundings. 
Coupled with this was a dignity and repose 
unmistakable to those who have watched the 
handling of large bodies of workingmen by 
some one leading spirit, master in every tone 
of the voice and every gesture of the body. 
The woman gave Babcock a quick glance of 
interrogation as he entered, and, receiving 
no answer, forgot him instantly. 

“Come, now, ye blatherin’ Dagos,” — this 
time to two Italian shovelers filling the buck- 
ets, — “ shall I throw one of ye overboard to 
wake ye up, or will I take a hand meself.^ 
Another shovel there — that bucket’s not 
half full — drawing one hand from her side 
pocket and pointing with an authoritative 
gesture, breaking as suddenly into a good- 
humored laugh over the awkwardness of 
their movements. 

Babcock, with all his curiosity aroused, 
watched her for a moment, forgetting for the 
time his own anxieties. He liked a skilled 
hand, and he liked push and grit. This 
7 


TOM GROGAN 


woman seemed to possess all three. He was 
amazed at the way in which she handled 
her men. He wished somebody as clear- 
headed and as capable were unloading his 
boat. He began to wonder who she might 
be. There was no mistaking her nationality. 
Slight as was her accent, her direct descent 
from the land of the shamrock and the shilla- 
lah was not to be doubted. The very tones of 
her voice seemed saturated with its national 
spirit — “a flower for you when you agree 
with me, and a broken head when you don’t.” 
But underneath all these outward indications 
of dominant power and great physical strength 
he detected in the lines of the mouth and 
eyes a certain refinement of nature. There 
was, too, a fresh, rosy wholesomeness, a 
sweet cleanliness, about the woman. These, 
added to the noble lines of her figure, would 
have appealed to one as beauty, and only that 
had it not been that the firm mouth, well- 
set chin, and deep, penetrating glance of the 
eye overpowered all other impressions. 

Babcock moved down beside her. 

“Can you tell me, madam, where I can 
find Thomas Grogan ? ” 

“ Right in front of ye,” she answered, turn- 
8 


BABCOCK’S DISCOVERY 


ing quickly, with a toss of her head like that 
of a great hound baffled in hunt. I ’m Tom 
Grogan. What can I do for ye ” 

“Not Grogan the stevedore.?” Babcock 
asked in astonishment. 

“Yes, Grogan the stevedore. Come ! 
Make it short, — what can I do for ye ” 
“Then this must be my boat. I came 
down ” — 

“Ye ’re not the boss .? ” — looking him over 
slowly from his feet up, a good-natured smile 
irradiating her face, her eyes beaming, every 
tooth glistening. “ There ’s me hand. I ’m 
glad to see ye. I ’ve worked for ye off and on 
for four years, and niver laid eyes on ye till 
this minute. Don’t say a word. I know it. 
I ’ve kept the concrete gangs back half a day, 
but I could n’t help it. I ’ve had four horses 
down with the ’zooty, and two men laid 
up with dip’thery. The Big Gray Cully’s 
drivin’ over there — the one that ’s a-hoistin’ 
— ain’t fit to be out of the stables. If ye 
were n’t behind in the work, he ’d have two 
blankets on him this minute. But I ’m here 
meself now, and I ’ll have her out to-night if 
I work till daylight. Here, cap’n, pull yerself 
together. This is the boss.” 

9 


TOM GROGAN 


Then catching sight of the boy turning a 
handspring behind the horse, she called out 
again : — 

“Now, look here, Cully, none of your 
skylarkin’. There ’s the dinner whistle. Un- 
hitch the Big Gray ; he ’s as dry as a bone.” 

The boy loosened the traces and led the 
horse to water, and Babcock, after a word 
with the Captain, and an encouraging smile 
to Tom, turned away. He meant to go to 
the engineer’s office before his return to 
town, now that his affairs with Grogan were 
settled. As he swung back the door in the 
board fence, he stumbled over a mere scrap 
of humanity carrying a dinner-pail. The 
mite was peering through the crack and 
calling to Cully at the horse-trough. He 
proved to be a boy of perhaps seven or eight 
years of age, but with the face of an old man 
— pinched, weary, and scarred all over with 
suffering and pain. He wore a white tennis- 
j cap pulled over his eyes, and a short gray 
jacket that reached to his waist. Under one 
arm was a wooden crutch. His left leg was 
bent at the knee, and swung clear when he 
jerked his little body along the ground. The 
other, though unhurt, was thin and bony, the 

lO 


BABCOCK’S DISCOVERY 


yarn stocking wrinkling over the shrunken 
calf. 

Beside him stood a big billy-goat, harnessed 
to a two-wheeled cart made of a soap-box. 

As Babcock stepped aside to let the boy 
pass he heard Cully shouting in answer to 
the little cripple’s cries. “ Cheese it, Patsy. 
Here ’s Pete Lathers cornin’ down de yard. 
Look out fer Stumpy. He ’ll have his dog 
on him.” 

Patsy laid down the pail and crept through 
the door again, drawing the crutch after him. 
The yardmaster passed with a bulldog at his 
heels, and touching his hat to the contractor, 
turned the corner of the coal-shed. 

“ What is your name ? ” said Babcock 
gently. A cripple always appealed to him, 
especially a child. 

My name ’s Patsy, sir,” looking straight 
up into Babcock’s eyes, the goat nibbling at 
his thin hand. 

‘‘ And who are you looking for ? ” 

I come down with mother’s dinner, sir. 
She ’s here working on the dock. There she 
is now.” • 

I thought ye were niver cornin’ wid that 
dinner, darlint,” came a woman’s voice. 


TOM GROGAN 


** What kept ye ? Stumpy was tired, was he ? 
Well, niver mind.” 

The woman lifted the little fellow in her 
arms, pushed back his cap and smoothed his 
hair with her fingers, her whole face beaming 
with tenderness. 

“ Gimme the crutch, darlint, and hold on 
to me tight, and we ’ll get under the shed 
out of the sun till I see what Jennie ’s sent 
me.” At this instant she caught Babcock’s 
eye. 

“ Oh, it ’s the boss. Sure, I thought ye ’d 
gone back. Pull the hat off ye, me boy ; it ’s 
the boss we ’re workin’ for, the man that ’s 
buildin’ the wall. Ye see, sir, when I 'm driv’ 
like I am to-day, I can’t go home to dinner, 
and me Jennie sends me — big — man — 
Patsy — down ” — rounding out each word 
in a pompous tone, as she slipped her hand 
under the boy’s chin and kissed him on the 
cheek. 

After she had propped him between two 
big spars, she lifted the cover of the tin pail. 

“ Pigs’ feet, as I ’m alive, and hot cabbage, 
and the coffee a-b’ilin’ too ! ” she said, turning 
to the boy and pulling out a tin flask with a 
screw top, the whole embedded in the smoking 


12 





Patsy 



BABCOCK’S DISCOVERY 


cabbage. ‘‘ There, we ’ll be after puttin’ it 
where Stumpy can’t be rubbin’ his nose in 
it ” — setting the pail, as she spoke, on a 
rough anchor-stone. 

Here the goat moved up, rubbing his head 
in the boy’s face, and then reaching around 
for the pail. 

Look at him, Patsy ! Git out, ye imp, or 
I ’ll hurt ye ! Leave that kiver alone ! ” She 
laughed as she struck at the goat with her 
empty gauntlet, and shrank back out of the 
way of his horns. 

There was no embarrassment over her in- 
formal dinner, eaten as she sat squat in a 
fence-corner, an anchor-stone for a table, and 
a pile of spars for a chair. She talked to 
Babcock in an unabashed, self-possessed way, 
pouring out the smoking coffee in the flask 
cup, chewing away on the pigs’ feet, and 
throwing the bones to the goat, who sniffed 
them contemptuously. “ Yes, he ’s the young- 
est of our children, sir. He and Jennie — 
that ’s home, and ’most as tall as meself — 
are all that’s left. The other two went to 
heaven when they was little ones.” 

Can’t the little fellow’s leg be straight- 
ened ? ” asked Babcock, in a tone which 

15 


TOM GROGAN 


plainly showed his sympathy for the boy's 
suffering. 

No, not now ; so Dr. Mason says. There 
was a time when it might have been, but I 
could n’t take him. I had him over to Quar- 
antine again two years ago, but it was too 
late ; it ’d growed fast, they said. When he 
was four years old he would be under the 
horses’ heels all the time, and a-climbin’ over 
them in the stable, and one day the Big Gray 
fetched him a crack, and broke his hip. He 
did n’t mean it, for he ’s as dacint a horse as 
I ’ve got ; but the boys had been a-worritin’ 
him, and he let drive, thinkin’, most likely, 
it was them. He ’s been a-hoistin’ all the 
mornin’.” Then, catching sight of Cully 
leading the horse back to work, she rose to 
her feet, all the fire and energy renewed in 
her face. 

“ Shake the men up. Cully ! I can’t give 
’em but half an hour to-day. We ’re behind 
time now. And tell the cap’n to pull them 
macaronis out of the hold, and start two of 
’em to trimmin’ some of that stone to star- 
board. She was a-listin’ when we knocked 
off for dinner. Come, lively ! ” 

i6 


II 


A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 

T he work on the sea-wall progressed. 

The coffer-dam which had been built 
by driving into the mud of the bottom a 
double row of heavy tongued and grooved 
planking in two parallel rows, and bulkhead- 
ing each end with heavy boards, had been 
filled with concrete to low-water mark, con- 
suming not only the contents of the delayed 
scow, but two subsequent cargoes, both of 
which had been unloaded by Tom Grogan. 

To keep out the leakage, steam-pumps 
were kept going night and day. 

By dint of hard work the upper masonry 
of the wall had been laid to the top course, 
ready for the coping, and there was now 
every prospect that the last stone would be 
lowered into place before the winter storms 
set in. 

The shanty — a temporary structure, good 
only for the life of the work — rested on a 

17 


TOM GROGAN 


set of stringers laid on extra piles driven 
outside of the working-platform. When the 
submarine work lies miles from shore, a 
shanty is the only shelter for the men, its 
interior being arranged with sleeping-bunks, 
with one end partitioned off for a kitchen and 
a storage-room. This last is filled with per- 
ishable property, extra blocks, Manila rope, 
portable forges, tools, shovels, and barrows. 

For this present sea-wall — an amphibious 
sort of structure, with one foot on land and 
the other in the water — the shanty was of 
light pine boards, roofed over, and made 
water-tight by tarred paper. The bunks had 
been omitted, for most of the men boarded 
in the village. In this way increased space 
for the storage of tools was gained, besides 
room for a desk containing the government 
working-drawings and specifications, pay-rolls, 
etc. In addition to its door, fastened at night 
with a padlock, and its one glass window, 
secured by a ten-penny nail, the shanty had 
a flap-window, hinged at the bottom. When 
this was propped up with a barrel stave it 
made a counter from which to pay the men, 
the paymaster standing inside. 

Babcock was sitting on a keg of dock spikes 

i8 


A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 


inside this working shanty some days after 
he had discovered Tom’s identity, watching 
his bookkeeper preparing the pay-roll, when 
a face was thrust through the square of the 
window. It was not a prepossessing face, 
rather pudgy and sleek, with uncertain, droop- 
ing mouth, and eyes that always looked over 
one’s head when he talked. It was the prop- 
erty of Mr. Peter Lathers, the yardmaster 
of the depot. 

When you’re done payin’ off maybe you’ll 
step outside, sir,” he said, in a confiding 
tone. “ I got a friend of mine who wants to 
know you. He ’s a stevedore, and does the 
work to the fort. He ’s never done nothin’ 
for you, but I told him next time you come 
down I ’d fetch him over. Say, Dan ! ” 
beckoning with his head over his shoulder; 
then, turning to Babcock, — make you 
acquainted, sir, with Mr. Daniel McGaw.” 

Two faces now filled the window — La- 
thers’s and that of a red-headed man in a 
straw hat. 

** All right. I ’ll attend to you in a moment. 
Glad to see you, Mr. McGaw,” said Babcock, 
rising from the keg, and looking over his 
bookkeeper’s shoulder. 

19 


TOM GROGAN 


Lathers's friend proved to be a short, big- 
boned, square-shouldered Irishman, about 
forty years of age, dressed in a once black 
broadcloth suit with frayed buttonholes, the 
lapels and vest covered with grease-spots. 
Around his collar, which had done service for 
several days, was twisted a red tie decorated 
with a glass pin. His face was spattered 
with blue powder-marks, as if from some 
quarry explosion. A lump of a mustache 
dyed dark brown concealed his upper lip, 
making all the more conspicuous the bushy, 
sandy-colored eyebrows that shaded a pair of 
treacherous eyes. His mouth was coarse and 
filled with teeth half worn off, like those of 
an old horse. When he smiled these opened 
slowly like a vise. Whatever of humor played 
about this opening lost its life instantly when 
these jaws clicked together again. 

The hands were big and strong, wrinkled 
and seamed, their rough backs spotted like 
a toad’s, the wrists covered with long spidery 
hairs. 

Babcock noticed particularly his low, flat 
forehead when he removed his hat, and the 
dry, red hair growing close to the eyebrows, 
wuz a-sp’akin’ to me fri’nd Mister 
20 


\ 



Dan McGaw 




A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 


Lathers about doin’ yer wurruk,” began Mc- 
Gaw, resting one foot on a pile of barrow- 
planks, his elbow on his knee. I does all 
the haulin’ to the foort. Surgint Duffy knows 
me. I wuz along here las’ week, an’ see ye 
wuz put back fer stone. If I ’d had the job, 
I ’d had her unloaded two days befoore.” 

“You’re dead right, Dan,” said Lathers, 
with an expression of disgust. “ This woman 
business ain’t no good, nohow. She ought 
to be over her tubs.” 

“She does her work, though,” Babcock 
said, beginning to see the drift of things. 

“ Oh, I don’t be sayin’ she don’t. She ’s 
a dacint woman, anough ; but thim b’ys as 
is a-runnin’ her carts is raisin’ h — 11 all the 
toime.” 

“And then look at the teams,” chimed in 
Lathers, with a jerk of his thumb toward the 
dock — “a lot of staggering horse-car wrecks 
you couldn’t sell to a glue-factory. That 
big gray she had a-hoistin’ is blind of an eye 
and sprung so forrard he can’t hardly stand.” 

At this moment the refrain of a song from 
somewhere near the board fence came waft- 
ing through the air, — 

“ And he wiped up the floor wid McGeechy.” 

23 


TOM GROGAN 


McGaw turned his head in search of the 
singer, and not finding him, resumed his po- 
sition. 

‘‘What are your rates per ton.?’* asked 
Babcock. 

“We’re a-chargin’ forty cints,” said Mc- 
Gaw, deferring to Lathers, as if for confir- 
mation. 

“Who’s ‘we’.?” 

“The Stevedores’ Union.” 

“But Mrs. Grogan is doing it for thirty,” 
said Babcock, looking straight into McGaw’s 
eyes, and speaking slowly and deliberately. 

“ Yis, I beared she wuz a-cuttin’ rates ; but 
she can’t live at it. If I does it, it ’ll be done 
roight, an’ no throuble.” 

“ I ’ll think it over,” said Babcock quietly, 
turning on his heel. The meanness of the 
whole affair offended him — two big, strong 
men vilifying a woman with no protector but 
her two hands. McGaw should never lift a 
shovel for him. 

Again the song floated out ; this time it 
seemed nearer, — 

“ . . . wid McGeechy — 

McGeechy of the Fourth.” 

“ Dan McGaw ’s giv’n it to you straight,” 
24 


A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 


said Lathers, stopping for a last word, his 
face thrust through the window again. “ He 's 
rigged for this business, and Grogan ain’t 
in it with him. If she wants her work done 
right, she ought to send down something 
with a mustache.” 

Here the song subsided in a prolonged 
chuckle. McGaw turned, and caught sight 
of a boy’s head, with its mop of black hair 
thrust through a crownless hat, leaning over 
a water cask. Lathers turned, too, and in- 
stantly lowered his voice. The head ducked 
out of sight. In the flash glance Babcock 
caught of the face, he recognized the boy 
Cully, Patsy’s friend, and the driver of the 
Big Gray. It was evident to Babcock that 
Cully at that moment was bubbling over with 
fun. Indeed, this waif of the streets, some- 
times called James Finnegan, was seldom 
known to be otherwise. 

** Thet ’s the wurrst rat in the stables,” 
said McGaw, his face reddening with anger. 
“ What kin ye do whin ye ’re a-buckin’ 
ag’in’ a lot uv divils loike him ” — speak- 
ing through the window to Babcock. ** Come 
out uv thet,” he called to Cully, or I ’ll 
bu’st yer jaw, ye sneakin’ rat ! ” 

25 


TOM GROGAN 


Cully came out, but not in obedience to 
McGaw or Lathers. Indeed, he paid no more 
attention to either of those distinguished 
diplomats than if they had been two cement- 
barrels standing on end. His face, too, had 
lost its irradiating smile ; not a wrinkle or a 
pucker ruffled its calm surface. His clay- 
soiled hat was in his hand — a very dirty 
hand, by the way, with the torn cuff of his 
shirt hanging loosely over it. His trousers 
bagged everywhere — at knees, seat, and 
waist. On his stockingless feet were a pair 
of sun-baked, brick-colored shoes. His ankles 
were as dark as mahogany. His throat and 
chest were bare, the skin tanned to leather 
wherever the sun could work its way through 
the holes in his garments. From out of this 
combination of dust and rags shone a pair 
of piercing black eyes, snapping with fun. 

‘‘I come up fer de mont’s pay,” he said 
coolly to Babcock, the corner of his eye 
glued to Lathers. “ De ole woman said ye ’d 
hev it ready.” 

Mrs. Grogan’s ? ” asked the bookkeeper, 
shuffling over his envelopes. 

“Yep. Tom Grogan.” 

“ Can you sign the pay-roll ? ” 

26 


A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 


**You bet” — with an eye still out for 
Lathers. 

“ Where did you learn to write — at 
school ? ” asked Babcock, noting the boy’s 
independence with undisguised pleasure. 

** Naw. Patsy an’ me studies nights. Pop 
Mullins teaches us — he ’s de ole woman’s 
farder what she brung out from Ireland. 
He’s a-livin’ up ter de shebang; dey’re all 
a-livin’ dere — Jinnie an’ de ole woman an’ 
Patsy — all ’cept me an’ Carl. I bunks in 
wid de Big Gray. Say, mister, ye ’d oughter 
git onter Patsy — he’s de little kid wid de 
crutch. He’s a corker, he is; reads po’try 
an’ everythin’. Where ’ll I sign ? Oh, I 
see ; in dis ’ere square hole right along- 
side de ole woman’s name ” — spreading his 
elbows, pen in hand, and affixing ‘‘James 
Finnegan” to the collection of autographs. 
The next moment he was running along the 
dock, the money envelope tight in his hand, 
sticking out his tongue at McGaw, and call- 
ing to Lathers as he disappeared through 
the door in the fence, “ Somp’n wid a mus- 
tache, somp’n wid a ;;^^^i-tache,” like a news- 
boy calling an extra. Then a stone grazed 
Lathers’s ear. 


27 


TOM GROGAN 


' Lathers sprang through the gate, but the 
boy was half way through the yard. It was 
this flea-like alertness that always saved Mr. 
Finnegan’s scalp. 

Once out of Lathers’s reach, Cully bounded 
up the road like a careering letter X, with 
arms and legs in air. If there was any one 
thing that delighted the boy’s soul, it was, to 
quote from his own picturesque vocabulary, 
‘‘to set up a job on de ole woman.” Here 
was his chance. Before he reached the stable 
he had planned the whole scene, even to the 
exact intonation of Lathers’s voice when he 
referred to the dearth of mustaches in the 
Grogan household. Within a few minutes 
of his arrival the details of the whole occur- 
rence, word for word, with such picturesque 
additions as his own fertile imagination could 
invent, were common talk about the yard. 

Lathers meanwhile had been called upon 
to direct a gang of laborers who were mov- 
ing an enormous iron buoy-float down the 
cinder-covered path to the dock. Two of 
the men walked beside the buoy, steadying 
it with their hands. Lathers was leaning 
against the board fence of the shop whittling 
a stick, while the others worked. 

28 


A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANK 


Suddenly there was an angry cry for La- 
thers, and every man stood still. So did the 
buoy and the moving truck. 

With head up, eyes blazing, her silk hood 
pushed back from her face, as if to give her 
air, her gray ulster open to her waist, her 
right hand bare of a glove, came Tom Gro- 
gan, brushing the men out of her way. 

I knew I ’d find you, Pete Lathers,” she 
said, facing him squarely ; “ why do ye want 
to be takin’ the bread out of me children’s 
mouths ? ” 

The stick dropped from Lathers’s hand : 
“ Well, who said I did } What have I got to 
do with your ” — 

‘‘You’ve got enough to do with ’em, you 
and your friend McGaw, to want ’em to starve. 
Have I ever hurt ye that ye should try an’ 
sneak me business away from me ? Ye know 
very well the fight I ’ve made, standin’ out 
on this dock, many a day an’ night, in the 
cold an’ wet, with nothin’ between Tom’s 
children an’ the street but these two hands — 
an’ yet ye ’d slink in like a dog to get me ” — 

“Here, now, I ain’t a-goin’ to have no 
row,” said Lathers, twitching his shoulders. 
“ It ’s against orders, an’ I ’ll call the yard- 
29 


TOM GROGAN 


watch, and throw you out if you make any 
fuss.’^ 

‘‘ The yard-watch ! ” said Tom, with a look 
of supreme contempt. ‘‘I can handle any 
two of ’em, an’ ye too, an’ ye know it.” Her 
cheeks were aflame. She crowded Lathers 
so closely his slinking figure hugged the 
fence. 

By this time the gang had abandoned the 
buoy, and were standing aghast, watching the 
fury of the Amazon. 

*‘Now, see here, don’t make a muss ; the 
commandant ’ll be down here in a minute.” 

‘‘ Let him come ; he ’s the one I want to 
see. If he knew he had a man in his pay 
that would do as dirty a trick to a woman as 
ye ’ve done to me, his name would be Dinnis. 
I ’ll see him meself this very day, and ” — 

Here Lathers interrupted with an angry 
gesture. 

“ Don’t ye lift yer arm at me,” she blazed 
out, or I ’ll break it at the wrist ! ” 

Lathers’s hand dropped. All the color was 
out of his face, his lip quivering. 

Whoever said I said a word against you, 

Mrs. Grogan, is a liar.” It was the last 

resort of a cowardly nature. 

30 


A BOARD FENCE LOSES A PLANIC 


Stop lyin' to me, Pete Lathers ! If 
there 's anythin’ in this world I hate, it ’s a 
liar. Ye said it, and ye know ye said it. 
Ye want that drunken loafer Dan McGaw to 
get me work. Ye ’ve been at it all summer, 
an’ ye think I have n’t watched ye ; but I 
have. And ye say I don’t pay full wages, 
and have got a lot of boys to do men’s work, 
an’ oughter be over me tubs. Now let me 
tell ye ” — Lathers shrank back, cowering 
before her — if ever I hear ye openin’ yer 
head about me, or me teams, or me work, 
I ’ll make ye swallow every tooth in yer head. 
Send down somethin’ with a mustache, will 
I ? There ’s not a man in the yard that ’s a 
match for me, an’ ye know it. Let one of 
’em try that.” 

Her uplifted fist, tight-clenched, shot past 
Lathers’s ear. A quick blow, a plank knocked 
clear of its fastenings, and a flood of daylight 
broke in behind Lathers’s head ! 

‘‘Now, the next time I come, Pete La- 
thers,” she said firmly, “ I ’ll miss the plank 
and take yer face.” 

Then she turned, and stalked out of the 
yard. 

31 


Ill 


SERGEANT DUFFY’s LITTLE GAME 

HE bad weather so long expected finally 



X arrived. An afternoon of soft, warm 
autumn skies, aglow with the radiance of the 
setting sun, and brilliant in violet and gold, 
had been followed by a cold, gray morning. 
Of a sudden a cloud the size of a hand had 
mounted clear of the horizon, and called to- 
gether its fellows. An unseen herald in the 
east blew a blast, and winds and sea awoke. 

By nine o’clock a gale was blowing. By 
ten Babcock’s men were bracing the outer 
sheathing of the coffer-dam, strengthening 
the derrick - guys, tightening the anchor- 
lines, and clearing the working-platforms of 
sand, cement, and other damageable prop- 
erty. The course-masonry, fortunately, was 
above the water-line, but the coping was still 
unset and the rubble backing of much of 
the wall unfinished. Two weeks of constant 
work were necessary before that part of the 


SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME 


structure contained in the first section of the 
contract would be entirely safe for the coming 
winter. Babcock doubled his gangs, and 
utilized every hour of low water to the utmost, 
even when the men stood waist-deep. It 
was his only hope for completing the first 
section that season. After that would come 
the cold, freezing the mortar, and ending 
everything. 

Tom Grogan performed wonders. Not only 
did she work her teams far into the night, 
but during all this bad weather she stood 
throughout the day on the unprotected dock, 
a man’s sou’wester covering her head, a rub- 
ber waterproof reaching to her feet. She 
directed every boat-load herself, and rushed 
the materials to the shovelers, who stood 
soaking wet in the driving rain. 

Lathers avoided her ; so did McGaw. 
Everybody else watched her in admiration. 
Even the commandant, a bluff, gray-bearded 
naval officer, — a hero of Hampton Roads 
and Memphis, — passed her on his morning 
inspection with a kindly look in his face and 
an aside to Babcock : Hire some more like 
her. She is worth a dozen men.” 

Not until the final cargo required for the 
33 


TOM GROGAN 


completion of the wall had been dumped on 
the platforms did she relax her vigilance. 
Then she shook the water from her oilskins 
and started for home. During all these hours 
of constant strain there was no outbreak of 
bravado, no spell of ill humor. She made no 
boasts or promises. With a certain buoyant 
pluck she stood by the derricks day after day, 
firing volleys of criticism or encouragement, 
as best suited the exigencies of the moment, 
now she sprang forward to catch a sagging 
bucket, now tended a guy to relieve a man, 
or handled the teams herself when the line 
of carts was blocked or stalled. 

Every hour she worked increased Bab- 
cock’s confidence and admiration. He began 
to feel a certain pride in her, and to a cer- 
tain extent to rely upon her. Such capacity, 
endurance, and loyalty were new in his experi- 
ence. If she owed him anything for her delay 
on that first cargo, the debt had been amply 
paid. Yet he saw that no such sense of ob- 
ligation had influenced her. To her this 
extra work had been a duty : he was behind- 
hand with the wall, and anxious ; she would 
help him out. As to the weather, she reveled 
in it. The dash of the spray and the driving 
34 


SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME 


rain only added to her enjoyment. The 
clatter of rattling buckets and the rhythmic 
movement of the shovelers keeping time to 
her orders made a music as dear to her as 
that of the steady tramp of men and the 
sound of arms to a division commander. 

Owing to the continued bad weather and 
the difficulty of shipping small quantities of 
fuel, the pumping-engines ran out of coal, and 
a complaint from Babcock’s office brought 
the agent of the coal company to the sea- 
wall. In times like these Babcock rarely 
left his work. Once let the Old Man of the 
Sea, as he knew, get his finger in between 
the cracks of a coffer-dam, and he would 
smash the whole into wreckage. 

I was on my way to see Tom Grogan,” 
said the agent. I heard you were here, so 
I stopped to tell you about the coal. There 
will be a load down in the morning. I am 
Mr. Crane, of Crane & Co., coal-dealers.” 

‘‘You know Mrs. Grogan, then.!*” asked 
Babcock, after the delay in the delivery of 
the coal had been explained. He had been 
waiting for some such opportunity to dis- 
cover more about his stevedore. He never 
discussed personalities with his men. 

35 


TOM GROGAN 


** Well, I should say so — known her for 
years. Best woman on top of Staten Island. 
Does she work for you 

‘‘ Yes, and has for some years ; but I must 
confess I never knew Grogan was a woman 
until I found her on the dock a few weeks 
ago, handling a cargo. She works like a 
machine. How long has she been a widow 
“Well, come to think of it, I don’t know 
that she is a widow. There ’s some mystery 
about the old man, but I never knew what. 
But that don’t count ; she ’s good enough as 
she is, and a hustler, too.” 

Crane was something of a hustler himself 
— one of those busy Americans who opens 
his daily life with an office-key and closes it 
with a letter for the late mail. He was a 
restless, wiry, black-eyed little man, never 
still for a moment, and perpetually in chase 
of another eluding dollar, — which half the 
time he caught. 

Then, laying his hand on Babcock’s arm : 
** And she ’s square as a brick, too. Some- 
times when a chunker captain, waiting to 
unload, shoves a few tons aboard a sneak- 
boat at night, Tom will spot him every time. 
They try to fool her into indorsing their 
36 


SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME 


bills of lading in full, but it don’t work for a 
cent.” 

“You call her Tom Grogan.?” Babcock 
asked, with a certain tone in his voice. He 
resented, somehow. Crane’s familiarity. 

“Certainly. Everybody calls her Tom 
Grogan. It ’s her husband’s name. Call her 
anything else, and she don’t answer. She 
seems to glory in it, and after you know her 
a while you don’t want to call her anything 
else yourself. It comes kind of natural — 
like your calling a man ‘ colonel ’ or ‘ judge.’ ” 

Babcock could not but admit that Crane 
might be right. All the names which could 
apply to a woman who had been sweetheart, 
wife, and mother seemed out of place when 
he thought of this undaunted spirit who had 
defied Lathers, and with one blow of her fist 
sent the splinters of a fence flying about his 
head. 

“ We ’ve got the year’s contract for coal at 
the fort,” continued Crane. “ The quarter- 
master-sergeant who inspects it — Sergeant 
Duffy — has a friend named McGaw who 
wants to do the unloading into the govern- 
ment bins. There ’s a low price on the coal, 
and there ’s no margin for anybody ; and if 
37 


TOM GROGAN 


Duffy should kick about the quality of the 
coal, — and you can’t please these fellows if 
they want to be ugly, — Crane & Co. will be 
in a hole, and lose money on the contract. I 
hate to go back on Tom Grogan, but there ’s 
no help for it. The ten cents a ton I ’d save 
if she hauls the coal instead of McGaw 
would be eaten up in Duffy’s short weights 
and rejections. I sent Sergeant Duffy’s letter 
to her, so she can tell how the land lies, and 
I ’m going up now to her house to see her, 
on my way to the fort. I don’t know what 
Duffy will get out of it ; perhaps he gets a 
few dollars out of the hauling. The coal is 
shipped, by the way, and ought to be here 
any minute.” 

“ Wait ; I ’ll go with you,” said Babcock, 
handing him an order for more coal. “ She 
has n’t sent down the tally-sheet for my last 
scow.” There was not the slightest neces- 
sity, of course, for Babcock to go to Grogan’s 
house for this document. 

As they walked on. Crane talked of every- 
thing except what was uppermost in Bab- 
cock’s mind. Babcock tried to lead the con- 
versation back to Tom, but Crane’s thoughts 
were on something else. 

38 


SERGEANT DUFFY'S LITTLE GAME 


When they reached the top of the hill, the 
noble harbor lay spread out beneath them, 
from the purple line of the great cities to the 
silver' sheen of the sea inside the narrows. 
The clearing wind had hauled to the north- 
west. The sky was heaped with soft clouds 
floating in the blue. At the base of the hill 
nestled the buildings and wharves of the 
Lighthouse Depot, with the unfinished sea- 
wall running out from the shore, fringed with 
platforms and bristling with swinging booms 
— the rings of white steam twirling from the 
exhaust-pipes. 

On either side of the vast basin lay two 
grim, silent forts, crouched on grassy slopes 
like great beasts with claws concealed. Near 
by, big lazy steamers, sullen and dull, rested 
motionless at Quarantine, awaiting inspec- 
tion ; while beyond, white-winged graceful 
yachts curved tufts of foam from their bows. 
In the open, elevators rose high as church 
steeples ; long lines of canal-boats stretched 
themselves out like huge water-snakes, with 
hissing tugs for heads ; enormous floats 
groaned under whole trains of cars ; big, 
burly lighters drifted slowly with widespread 
oil-stained sails ; monster derricks towered 
‘ 39 


TOM GROGAN 


aloft, derricks that pick up a hundred-ton gun 
as easily as an ant does a grain of sand — 
each floating craft made necessary by some 
special industry peculiar to the port of New 
York, and each unlike any other craft in the 
harbor of any other city of the world. 

Grogan’s house and stables lay just over 
the brow of this hill, in a little hollow. The 
house was a plain, square frame dwelling, 
with front and rear verandas, protected by 
the arching branches of a big sycamore-tree, 
and surrounded by a small’ garden filled with 
flaming dahlias and chrysanthemums. Every- 
thing about the place was scrupulously neat 
and clean. 

The stables — there were two — stood on 
the lower end of the lot. They looked new, 
or were newly painted in a dark red, and 
appeared to have accommodations for a num- 
ber of horses. The stable-yard lay below the 
house. In its open square were a pump and 
a horse-trough, at which two horses were 
drinking. One, the Big Gray, had his collar 
off, showing where the sweat had discolored 
the skin, the traces crossed loosely over his 
back. He was drinking eagerly, and had 
evidently just come in from work. About, 
40 


SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME 


under the sheds, were dirt-carts tilted for- 
ward on their shafts, and dust-begrimed har- 
nesses hanging on wooden pegs. 

A strapping young fellow in a red shirt 
came out of the stable door leading two other 
horses to the trough. Babcock looked about 
him in surprise at the extent of the estab- 
lishment. He had supposed that his steve- 
dore had a small outfit and needed all the 
work she could get. If, as McGaw had said, 
only boys did Grogan’s work, they at least 
did it well. 

Crane mounted the porch first and knocked. 
Babcock followed. 

** No, Mr. Crane,” said a young girl, open- 
ing the door, ‘‘ she ’s not at home. I ’m ex- 
pecting her every minute. Mother went to 
work early this morning. She ’ll be sorry 
to miss you, sir. She ought to be home 
now, for she ’s been up ’most all night at the 
fort. She ’s just sent Carl up for two more 
horses. Won’t you come in and wait ? ” 

“No; I’ll keep on to the fort,” answered 
Crane. “ I may meet her on the road.” 

“ May I come in ” Babcock asked, explain- 
ing his business in a few words. 

“ Oh, yes, sir. Mother won’t be long now. 

41 


TOM GROGAN 


You Ve not forgotten me, Mr. Babcock ? 
1 ’m her daughter Jennie. I was to your 
office once. Gran’pop, this is the gentleman 
mother works for.” 

An old man rose with some difficulty from 
an armchair, and bowed in a kindly, defer- 
ential way. He had been reading near the 
window. He was in his shirt-sleeves, his col- 
lar open at the throat. He seemed rather 
feeble. His legs shook as if he were weak 
from some recent illness. About the eyes 
was a certain kindliness that did not escape 
Babcock’s quick glance ; they were clear and 
honest, and looked straight into his — the 
kind he liked. The old man’s most strik- 
ing features were his silver-white hair, parted 
over his forehead and falling to his shoul- 
ders, and his thin, straight, transparent nose, 
indicating both ill health and a certain re- 
finement and sensitiveness of nature. Had 
it not been for his dress, he might have 
passed for an English curate on half pay. 

“ Me name ’s Richard, sor — Richard Mul- 
lins,” said the old man. “ I ’m Mary’s father. 
She won’t be long gone now. She promised 
me she ’d be home for dinner.” He placed a 
chair for Babcock, and remained standing. 

42 



“ Pm her daughter Jennie" 


f 


SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME 


‘‘ I will wait until she returns,” said Bab- 
cock. He had come to discover something 
more definite about this woman who worked 
like a steam-engine, crooned over a cripple, 
and broke a plank with her fist, and he did 
not intend to leave until he knew. Your 
daughter must have had great experience. 
I have never seen any one man handle work 
better,” he continued, extending his hand. 
Then, noticing that Mullins was still stand- 
ing, ‘‘Don’t let me take your seat.” 

Mullins hesitated, glanced at Jennie, and, 
moving another chair from the window, drew 
it nearer, and settled slowly beside Babcock. 

The room was as clean as bare arms and 
scrubbing-brushes could make it. Near the 
fireplace was a cast-iron stove, and opposite 
this stood a parlor organ, its top littered with 
photographs. A few chromos hung on the 
walls. There were also a big plush sofa and 
two haircloth rocking-chairs, of walnut, cov- 
ered with cotton tidies. The carpet on the 
floor was new, and in the window, where the 
old man had been sitting, some pots of nas- 
turtiums were blooming, their tendrils reach- 
ing up both sides of the sash. Opening 
from this room was the kitchen, resplendent 
45 


TOM GROGAN 


in bright pans and a shining copper wash- 
boiler. The girl passed constantly in and 
out the open door, spreading the cloth and 
bringing dishes for the table. 

Her girlish figure was clothed in a blue 
calico frock and white apron, the sleeves 
rolled up to the elbows, showing some faint 
traces of flour clinging to her wrists, as if 
she had been suddenly summoned from the 
bread-bowl. She was fresh and sweet, strong 
and healthy, with a certain grace of manner 
about her that pleased Babcock instantly. 
He saw now that she had her mother’s eyes 
and color, but not her air of fearlessness 
and self-reliance — that kind of self-reliance 
which comes only of many nights of anxiety 
and many days of success. He noticed, too, 
that when she spoke to the old man her 
voice was tempered with a peculiar tender- 
ness, as if his infirmities were more to be 
pitied than complained of. This pleased him 
most of all. 

‘'You live with your daughter, Mrs. Gro- 
gan ? ” Babcock asked in a friendly way, turn- 
ing to the old man. 

“Yis, sor. Whin Tom got sick, she sint 
fer me to come over an’ hilp her. I feeds 
46 



Me na?fie's Richard^ sor — Richard Mtdlins'^ 



4 


SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME 


the horses whin Oi ’m able, an’ looks after 
the garden, but Oi ’m not much good.” 

“ Is Mr. Thomas Grogan living ^ ” asked 
Babcock cautiously, and with a certain tone 
of respect, hoping to get closer to the facts, 
and yet not to seem intrusive. 

** Oh, yis, sor : an’ moight be dead fer all 
the good he does. He’s in New Yorruk 
some’er’s, on a farm” — lowering his voice 
to a whisper and looking anxiously toward 
Jennie — “belongin’ to the State, I think, 
sor. He ’s hurted pretty bad, an’ p’haps he ’s 
a leetle off — I dunno. Mary has niver tould 
me.” 

Before Babcock could pursue the inquiry 
further there was a firm tread on the porch 
steps, and the old man rose from the chair, 
his face brightening. 

“Here she is, Gran’pop,” said Jennie, lay- 
ing down her dish and springing to the 
door. 

“ Hold tight, darlint,” came a voice from 
the outside, and the next instant Tom Grogan 
strode in, her face aglow with laughter, her 
hood awry, her eyes beaming. Patsy was 
perched on her shoulder, his little crutch fast 
in one hand, the other tightly wound about 
49 


TOM GROGAN 


her neck. “ Let go, darlint ; ye ’re a-chokin’ 
the wind out of me. 

‘‘ Oh, it 's ye a-waitin’, Mr. Babcock — me 
man Carl thought ye ’d gone. Mr. Crane I 
met outside told me you’d been here. Jen- 
nie ’ll get the tally-sheet of the last load for 
ye. I ’ve been to the fort since daylight, 
and pretty much all night, to tell ye God’s 
truth. Oh, Gran’pop, but I smashed ’em ! ” 
she exclaimed as she gently removed Patsy’s 
arm and laid him in the old man’s lap. She 
had picked the little cripple up at the gar- 
den gate, where he always waited for her. 
“That’s the last job that sneakin’ Duffy and 
Dan McGaw ’ll ever put up on me. Oh, but 
ye should ’a’ minded the face on him, Gran’- 
pop ! ” — untying her hood and breaking into 
a laugh so contagious in its mirth that even 
Babcock joined in without knowing what it 
was all about. 

As she spoke, Tom stood facing her father, 
hood and ulster off, the light of the windows 
silhouetting the splendid lines of her well- 
rounded figure, with its deep chest, firm bust, 
broad back, and full throat, her arms swing- 
ing loose and free. 

“Ye see,” she said, turning to Babcock, 

so 


SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME. 


‘‘that man Duffy tried to do me, — he’s the 
sergeant at the fort — and Dan McGaw — ye 
know him — he’s the divil that wanted to 
work for ye. Ye know I always had the 
hauling of the coal at the fort, an’ I want to 
hold on to it, for it comes every year. I ’ve 
been a-watchin’ for this coal for a month. 
Every October there’s a new contractor, and 
this time it was me friend Mr. Crane I ’ye 
worked for before. So I sees Duffy about it 
the other day, an’ he says, ‘Well, I think ye 
better talk to the quartermaster, who ’s away, 
but who ’ll be home next week.’ An’ that 
night when I got home, there lay a letter 
from Mr. Crane, wid another letter inside 
it Sergeant Duffy had sent to Mr. Crane, 
sayin’ he’d recommend Dan McGaw to do 
the stevedorin’ — the sneakin’ villain — an’ 
sayin’ that he — Duffy — was a-goin’ to in- 
spect the coal himself, an’ if his friend Dan 
McGaw hauled it, the quality would be all 
right. Think of that ! I tell ye, Mr. Bab- 
cock, they’re divils. Then Mr. Crane put 
down at the bottom of his letter to me that 
he was sorry not to give me the job, but that 
he must give it to Duffy’s friend McGaw, or 
Duffy might reject the coal. Wait till I wash 

51 


TOM GROGAN 


me hands and I ’ll tell ye how I fixed him/* 
she added suddenly, as with a glance at her 
fingers she disappeared into the kitchen, re- 
appearing a moment later with her bare arms 
as fresh and as rosy as her cheeks, from their 
friction with a clean crash towel. 

‘‘Well!” she continued, “I jumps into 
me bonnet yisterday, and over I goes to the 
fort ; an’ I up an’ says to Duffy, ‘ I can’t wait 
for the quartermaster. When ’s that coal 
a-comin’.^’ An’ he says, ‘In a couple of 
weeks.’ An’ I turned onto him and says : 
‘Ye ’re a pretty loafer to take the bread out 
of Tom Grogan’s children’s mouths I An’ ye 
want Dan McGaw to do the haulin’, do ye ? 
An’ the quality of the coal ’ll be all right if 
he gits it ? An’ there ’s sure to be twenty- 
five dollars for ye, won’t there } If I hear a 
word more out of ye I ’ll see Colonel Howard 
sure, an’ hand him this letter.’ An’ Duffy 
turned white as a load of lime, and says, 
‘ Don’t do it, for God’s sake I It ’ll cost me 
m’ place.’ While I was a-talkin’ I see a 
chunker-boat with the very coal on it round 
into the dock with a tug; an’ I ran to the 
string-piece and catched the line, and has 
her fast to a spile before the tug lost head- 
52 



‘‘/V/ . . . hand him this letter'*'* 




SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME 

way. Then I started for home on the run, to 
get me derricks and stuff. I got home, hooked 
up by twelve o’clock last night, an’ before 
daylight I had me rig up an’ the fall set and 
the buckets over her hatches. At six o’clock 
this mornin’ I took the teams and was a-run- 
nin’ the coal out of the chunker, when down 
comes Mr. — Daniel — McGaw with a gang 
and his big derrick on a cart.” She repeated 
this in a mocking tone, swinging her big 
shoulders exactly as her rival would have done. 

‘“That’s me rig,’ I says to him, p’ intin* 
up to the gaff, ‘ an’ me coal, an’ I ’ll throw 
the fust man overboard who lays hands on 
it ! ’ An’ then the sergeant come out and 
took McGaw one side an’ said somethin’ to 
him, with his back to me ; an’ when McGaw 
turned he was white too, an’ without sayin* 
a word he turned the team and druv off. 
An’ just now I met Mr. Crane walkin’ down, 
lookin’ like he had lost a horse. ‘Tom Gro- 
gan,’ he says, ‘I hate to disappoint ye, an* 
would n’t, for ye ’ve always done me work 
well ; but I ’m stuck on the coal contract, 
an’ the sergeant can put me in a hole if ye 
do the haulin’.’ An’ I says, ‘ Brace up, Mr. 
Crane, there *s a hole, but ye ain’t in it, an* 
55 


TOM GROGAN 


the sergeant is. I ’ll unload every pound of 
that coal, if I do it for nothin’, and if that 
sneak in striped trousers bothers me or you, 
I ’ll pull him apart an’ stamp on him ! ’ ” 

Through all her talk there was a triumph- 
ant good humor, a joyousness, a glow and 
breeziness, which completely fascinated Bab- 
cock. Although she had been up half the 
night, she was as sweet and fresh and rosy 
as a child. Her vitality, her strength, her 
indomitable energy, impressed him as no 
woman’s had ever done before. 

When she had finished her story she sud- 
denly caught Patsy out of her father’s arms 
and dropped with him into a chair, all the 
mother-hunger in her still unsatisfied. She 
smothered him with kisses and hugged him 
to her breast, holding his pinched face against 
her ruddy cheek. Then she smoothed his 
forehead with her well-shaped hand, and 
rocked him back and forth. By and by she 
told him of the stone that the Big Gray had 
got in his hoof down at the fort that morn- 
ing, and how lame he had been, and how 
Cully had taken it out with — a — great — 
big — spike ! — dwelling on the last words as 
if they belonged to some wonderful fairy-tale. 

S6 


SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME 


The little fellow sat up in her lap and laughed 
as he patted her breast joyously with his thin 
hand. ‘‘Cully could do it,” he shouted in 
high glee ; “ Cully can do anything.” Bab- 
cock, apparently, made no more difference to 
her than if he had been an extra chair. 

As she moved about her rooms afterward, 
calling to her men from the open door, con- 
sulting with Jennie, her arms about her 
neck, or stopping at intervals to croon over 
her child, she seemed to him to lose all iden- 
tity with the woman on the dock. The spirit 
that enveloped her belonged rather to that 
of some royal dame of heroic times, than to 
that of a working woman of to-day. The 
room somehow became her castle, the rough 
stablemen her knights. 

On his return to his work she walked back 
with him part of the way. Babcock, still 
bewildered, and still consumed with curiosity 
to learn something of her past, led the talk 
to her life along the docks, expressing his 
great surprise at discovering her so capable 
and willing to do a man’s work, asking who 
had taught her, and whether her husband 
in his time had been equally efficient and 
strong. 


57 


TOM GROGAN 


Instantly she grew reticent. She did not 
even answer his question. He waited a mo- 
ment, and, realizing his mistake, turned the 
conversation in another direction. 

** And how about those rough fellows 
around the wharves — those who don’t know 
you — are they never coarse and brutal to 
you ? ” 

** Not when I look ’em in the face,” she 
answered slowly and deliberately. “ No man 
ever opens his head, nor dar’s n’t. When 
they see me a-comin’ they stops talkin’, if it ’s 
what they would n’t want their daughters 
to hear ; an’ there ain’t no dirty back talk, 
neither. An’ I make me own men civil, too, 
with a dacint tongue in their heads. I had 
a young strip of a lad once who would be 
a-swearin’ round the stables. I told him to 
mend his manners or I ’d wash his mouth 
out, an’ that I would n’t have nobody hit me 
horses on the head. He kep’ along, an’ I see 
it was a bad example for the other drivers 
(this was only a year ago, an’ I had three 
of ’em) ; so when he hit the Big Gray ag’in, 
I hauled off and give him a crack that laid 
him out. I was scared solid for two hours, 
though they never knew it.” 

58 


SERGEANT DUFFY’S LITTLE GAME 


Then, with an almost piteous look in her 
face, and with a sudden burst of confidence, 
born, doubtless, of a dawning faith in the 
man’s evident sincerity and esteem, she said 
in a faltering tone : — 

“ God help me ! what can I do ? I ’ve no 
man to stand by me, an’ somebody ’s got to 
be boss.” 


IV 


A WALKING DELEGATE LEARNS A NEW STEP 

M cGAW’S failure to undermine Tom’s 
business with Babcock, and his com- 
plete discomfiture over Crane’s coal contract 
at the fort, only intensified his hatred of the 
woman. 

Finding that he could make no headway 
against her alone, he called upon the Union 
to assist him, claiming that she was employ- 
ing non-union labor, and had thus been able 
to cut down the discharging rates to starva- 
tion prices. 

A meeting was accordingly called by the 
executive committee of the Knights, and a 
resolution passed condemning certain persons 
in the village of Rockville as traitors to the 
cause of the workingman. Only one copy of 
this edict was issued and mailed. This found 
its way into Tom Grogan’s letter-box. Five 
minutes after she had broken the seal, her 
6o 


A WALKING DELEGATE 

men discovered the document pasted upside 
down on her stable door. 

McGaw heard of her action that night, and 
started another line of attack. It was man- 
aged so skillfully that that which until then 
had been only a general dissatisfaction on 
the part of the members of the Union and 
their sympathizers over Tom’s business meth- 
ods now developed into an avowed deter- 
mination to crush her. They discussed sev- 
eral plans by which she could be compelled 
either to restore rates for unloading, or be 
forced out of the business altogether. As 
one result of these deliberations a committee 
called upon the priest. Father McCluskey, 
and informed him of the delicate position in 
which the Union had been placed by her 
having hidden her husband away, thus for- 
cing them to fight the woman herself. She 
was making trouble, they urged, with her low 
wages and her unloading rates. Perhaps 
his Riverence c’u’d straighten her out.” 

Father McCluskey’s interview with Tom 
took place in the priest’s room one morning 
after early mass. It had gone abroad, some- 
how, that his Reverence intended to disci- 
pline the “high-flyer,” and a considerable 

6i 


TOM GROGAN 


number of the ‘‘tenement-house gang,” as 
Tom called them, had loitered behind to 
watch the effect of the good father’s remon- 
strances. 

What Tom told the priest no one ever 
knew : such conferences are part of the re- 
gime of the church, and go no farther. It 
was noticed, however, as she came down the 
aisle, that her eyes were red, as if from weep- 
ing, and that she never raised them from the 
floor as she passed between her eneriiies on 
her way to the church door. Once outside, 
she put her arm around Jennie, who was wait- 
ing, and the two strolled slowly across the 
lots to her house. 

When the priest came out, his own eyes 
were tinged with moisture. He called Den- 
nis Quigg, McGaw’s right-hand man, and in a 
voice loud enough to be heard by those near- 
est him expressed his indignation that any 
dissension should have arisen among his peo- 
ple over a woman’s work, and said that he 
would hear no more of this unchristian and 
unmanly interference with one whose only 
support came from the labor of her hands. 

McGaw and his friends were not discour- 
aged. They were only determined upon some 
62 


A WALKING DELEGATE 


more definite stroke. It was therefore or- 
dered that a committee be appointed to way- 
lay her men going to work, and inform them 
of their duty to their fellow-laborers. 

Accordingly, this same Quigg — smooth- 
shaven, smirking, and hollow-eyed, with a 
diamond pin, half a yard of watch-chain, and 
a fancy shirt — ex-village clerk with his ac- 
counts short, ex -deputy sheriff with his 
accounts of cruelty and blackmail long, and 
at present walking delegate of the Union — 
was appointed a committee of one for that 
duty. 

Quigg began by begging a ride in one of 
Tom's return carts, and taking this oppor- 
tunity to lay before the driver the enormity 
of working for Grogan for thirty dollars a 
month and board, when there were a number 
of his brethren out of work and starving who 
would not work for less than two dollars a 
day if it were offered them. It was plainly 
the driver’s duty, Quigg urged, to give up his 
job until Tom Grogan could be compelled to 
hire him back at advanced wages. During 
this enforced idleness the Union would pay 
the driver fifty cents a day. Here Quigg 
pounded his chest, clenched his fists, and 

63 


TOM GROGAN 


said solemnly, “If capital once downs the 
lab’rin’ man, we ’ll all be slaves.” 

The driver was Carl Nilsson, a Swede, a 
big, blue-eyed, light-haired young fellow of 
twenty-two, a sailor from boyhood, who three 
years before, on a public highway, had been 
picked up penniless and hungry by Tom 
Grogan, after the keeper of a sailors’ board- 
ing-house had robbed him of his year’s sav- 
ings. The change from cracking ice from a 
ship’s deck with a marlinespike, to currying 
and feeding something alive and warm and 
comfortable, was so delightful to the Swede 
that he had given up the sea for a while. He 
had felt that he could ship again at any time, 
the water was so near. As the months went 
by, however, he, too, gradually fell under the 
spell of Tom’s influence. She reminded him 
of the great Norse women he had read about 
in his boyhood. Besides all this, he was 
loyal and true to the woman who had be- 
friended him, and who had so far appreciated 
his devotion to her interests as to promote 
him from hostler and driver to foreman of 
the stables. 

Nilsson knew Quigg by sight, for he had 
seen him walking home with Jennie from 
64 



He had seen him walking home with yennie from church 






9 /* 












C 


».• ■ 


' r 





••r 


>'v-vl 


13*? 


.“i / 


*A ♦ 




ft 


'*hS/\i 




%5- 






V ‘ ? -l 




*iV 


k2<- 


1 *' 


hi 


>'*V 




t •- 




%l] 


\ » 


* \ 


'f 




-:i 


^:* » 


• > 








. > 








i I 


• 


♦ » 


A* 




» ♦ 




T. f 


^•V 


v.v 


a 




V -• 


'■ 41 


/ 




‘V ± 


•*<s 


«>• *' 




-i 


t - 




iV*’ 




>5-; 




't*"' •'..^ ♦ -■' *' ’4-"V^^' "SClt •"■■*1. - -h. • ■ \"M 




tj 


_.< y 








Vr 


'c. r 


• V 


wM c 


vv 


41 




.*N 


4 « 








►J-rv 






' N. 


• \ 


*. _ 


VTr 


-v*** 

I ■> - " ^ • 

•*'*.i'j hi 




IT- 




>'■"< 


.VV 




v::* y 


» 






'I • 


• 'V 




'i 






J: 


^jr-S 


u 




it 


>t 


■im. 






W? 










LV' 


r;T‘ y 






i.y * 


, 4--^ . 


iM »» 


• t . 




v:> 


'’,"4 




i 


^ k<. 






X*1 




• • T 2 


•» 


• •f" 


rfv* 






'M 


!\ 


'.tt^ ■* 




^'‘!f 


'^1 


- », 






r*- 






* \ / * 


>- 


■- r 


C/ 


4. ♦, 




.4 






r > 


n 


.» • 


I 


to 


kf V /- > 




ii' 








t-*0"*' 






A.4 






W‘ d 


> LVl 


■r«V V 












* fc 


A' 


■sr ^#' 


‘i . V 


« * # 




I 


< ';;* <£: 


« !• 




k.i 




.Vj 


;*l •*» 


.-y 


I ’*s 


:,tl> '-k 


-r •, 


>5i 


» *_ 


.vr.> 


vsA 


• _» 


I > 




r f 


^ 1^ & 
. & ft . 44 


Nr>' 






urk-:, 


I. 






II. 


-» -ft •.' 


/ ■ .1 


i ^ 


* i' ■* 


t' :»» 


iA 


V..; •* 


r V 


r 4t 




■•'-J 


r 


>.'','V'.V 4 .'^.- ’ 

L ./.h 

I 4 ft iff ft It ~ ^ 9 \ 


Lft'w/^ » i J « • 










j- ' ' ■ ^ 


; f r 










« I 


4 *. 


^ k 


» .V, 




4r- 


prrr 


^*1 


blKfZ 


f'wir 




V ff- ‘ 


V^i. 






Ys* J 


•v 







A WALKING DELEGATE 


church. His knowledge of English was 
slight, but it was enough to enable him to 
comprehend Quigg’s purpose as he talked 
beside him on the cart. After some ques- 
tions about how long the enforced idleness 
would continue, he asked suddenly : — 

‘‘ Who da horse clean when I go 'way ? ” 

** D — n her ! let her clean it herself,” Quigg 
answered angrily. 

This ended the question for Nilsson, and 
it very nearly ended the delegate. Jumping 
from the cart, Carl picked up the shovel and 
sprang toward Quigg, who dodged out of his 
way, and then took to his heels. 

When Nilsson, still white with anger, 
reached the dock, he related the incident to 
Cully, who, on his return home, retailed it to 
Jennie with such variety of gesture and into- 
nation that that young lady blushed scarlet, 
but whether from sympathy for Quigg or 
admiration for Nilsson, Cully was unable to 
decide. 

Quigg’s failure to coax away one of Tom’s 
men ended active operations against Tom, 
so far as the Union was concerned. It con- 
tinued to listen to McGaw’s protests, but, 
with an eye open for its own interests, replied 
67 


TOM GROGAN 


that if Grogan’s men would not be enticed 
away it could at present take no further ac- 
tion. His trouble with Tom was an individual 
matter, and a little patience on McGaw’s part 
was advised. The season’s work was over, 
and nothing of importance could be done 
until the opening of the spring business. If 
Tom’s men struck now, she would be glad to 
get rid of them. It would, therefore, be wiser 
to wait until she could not do without them, 
when they might all be forced out in a body. 
In the interim McGaw should direct his 
efforts to harassing his enemy. Perhaps a 
word with Slattery, the blacksmith, might 
induce that worthy brother Knight to refuse 
to do her shoeing some morning when she 
was stalled for want of a horse ; or he might 
let a nail slip in a tender hoof. No one could 
tell what might happen in the coming months. 
At the moment the funds of the Union were 
too low for aggressive measures. Were Mc- 
Gaw, however, to make a contribution of 
two hundred dollars to the bank account in 
order to meet possible emergencies, some- 
thing might be done. All this was duly 
inscribed in the books of the committee, 
— that is, the last part of it, — and upon 


A WALKING DELEGATE 


McGaw’s promising to do what he could 
toward improving the funds. It was there- 
upon subsequently resolved that before re- 
sorting to harsher measures the Union should 
do all in its power toward winning over the 
enemy. Brother Knight Dennis Quigg was 
thereupon deputed to call upon Mrs. Grogan 
and invite her into the Union. 

On brother Knight Dennis Quigg’ s declin- 
ing for private reasons the honorable mission 
intrusted to him by the honorable board (Mr. 
Quigg’ s exact words of refusal, whispered in 
the chairman’s ear, were, ** I ’m a-jollyin’ one 
of her kittens ; send somebody else after the 
old cat ”), another walking delegate, brother 
Knight Crimmins by name, was selected to 
carry out the gracious action of the com- 
mittee. 

Crimmins had begun life as a plumber’s 
helper, had been iceman, night-watchman, 
heeler, and full-fledged plumber ; and having 
been out of work himself for months at a 
time, was admirably qualifled to speak of the 
advantages of idleness to any other candidate 
for like honors. 

He was a small man with a big nose, griz- 
zled chin-whiskers, and rum-and-watery eyes, 
69 


TOM GROGAN 


and wore constantly a pair of patched blue 
overalls as a badge of his laborship. The 
seat of these outside trousers showed more 
wear than his hands. 

Immediately upon his appointment, Crim- 
mins went to McGaw’s house to talk over the 
line of attack. The conference was held in 
the sitting-room and behind closed doors — 
so tightly closed that young Billy McGaw, 
with one eye in mourning from the effect 
of a recent street fight, was unable, even by 
the aid of the undamaged eye and the key- 
hole, to get the slightest inkling of what was 
going on inside. 

When the door was finally opened and 
McGaw and Crimmins came out, they brought 
with them an aroma the pungency of which 
was explained by two empty glasses and a 
black bottle decorating one end of the only 
table in the room. 

As Crimmins stepped down from the 
broken stoop, with its rusty rain-spout and 
rotting floor-planks, Billy overheard this part- 
ing remark from his father : Thry the ile 
furst, Crimmy, an’ see what she ’ll do ; thin 
give her the vinegar ; and thin,” with an 
oath, “ef that don’t fetch ’er, come back 
70 


A WALKING DELEGATE 


here to me and we ’ll give ’er the red pep- 
per.” 

Brother Knight Crimmins waved his hand 
to the speaker. Just leave ’er to me, Dan,” 
he said, and started for Tom’s house. Crim- 
mins was delighted with his mission. He 
felt sure of bringing back her application 
within an hour. Nothing ever pleased him 
so much as to work a poor woman into an 
agony of fright with threats of the Union. 
Wives and daughters had often followed him 
out into the street, begging him to let the 
men alone for another week until they could 
pay the rent. Sometimes, when he relented, 
the more grateful would bless him for his 
magnanimity. This increased his self-re- 
spect. 

Tom met him at the door. She had been 
sitting up with a sick child of Dick Todd, 
foreman at the brewery, and had just come 
home. Hardly a week passed without some 
one in distress sending for her. She had 
never seen Crimmins before, and thought he 
had come to mend the roof. His first words, 
however, betrayed him : — 

“ The Knights sent me up to have a word 
wid ye.” 

71 


TOM GROGAN 


Tom made a movement as if to shut the 
door in his face; then she paused for an 
instant, and said curtly, Come inside.” 

Crimmins crushed his slouch-hat in his 
hand, and slunk into a chair by the window. 
Tom remained standing. 

“I see ye like flowers, Mrs. Grogan,” he 
began, in his gentlest voice. Them gera- 
niums is the finest I iver see ” — peering 
under the leaves of the plants. Guess it ’s 
’cause ye water ’em so much.” 

Tom made no reply. 

Crimmins fidgeted on his chair a little, and 
tried another tack. I s’pose ye ain’t doin’ 
much just now, weather ’s so bad. The 
road ’s awful goin’ down to the fort.” 

Tom’s hands were in the side pockets of 
her ulster. Her face was aglow with her brisk 
walk from the tenements. She never took 
her eyes from his face, and never moved a 
muscle of her body. She was slowly revolv- 
ing in her mind whether any information she 
could get out of him would be worth the wait- 
ing for. 

Crimmins relapsed into silence, and began 
patting the floor with his foot. The pro- 
longed stillness was becoming uncomfortable. 

72 


A WALKING DELEGATE 


** I was tellin’ ye about the meetin’ we had 
to the Union last night. We was goin’ over 
the list of members, an’ we did n’t find yer 
name. The board thought maybe ye ’d like 
to come in wid us. The dues is only two 
dollars a month. We ’re a-regulatin’ the 
prices for next year, stevedorin’ an’ haulin’, 
an’ the rates ’ll be sent out next week.” The 
stopper was now out of the oil-bottle. 

“ How many members have ye got ? ” she 
asked quietly. 

Hundred an’ seventy-three in our branch 
of the Knights.” 

** All pay two dollars a month ? ” 

“That’s about the size of it,” said Crim- 
mins. 

“ What do we git when we jine ? ” 

“Well, we all pull together — that’s one 
thing. One man’s strike ’s every man’s 
strike. The capitalists been tryin’ to down 
us, an’ the laborin’-man ’s got to stand to- 
gether. Did ye hear about the Fertilizer 
Company ’s layin’ off two of our men las’ 
Friday just fer bein’ off a day or so without 
leave, and their gittin’ a couple of scabs from 
Hoboken to ” — 

“What else do we git.!*” said Tom, in a 
73 


TOM GROGAN 


quick, imperious tone, ignoring the digres- 
sion. She had moved a step closer. 

Crimmins looked slyly up into her eyes. 
Until this moment he had been addressing 
his remarks to the brass ornament on the 
extreme top of the cast-iron stove. Tom’s 
expression of face did not reassure him ; in 
fact, the steady gaze of her clear gray eye 
was as uncomfortable as the focused light of 
a sun lens. 

*‘Well — we help each other,” he blurted 
out. 

Do you do any helpin’ ? ” 

‘‘ Yis ; ” stiffening a little. I ’m the walkin’ 

delegate of our branch.” 

Oh, ye ’re the walkin’ delegate ! You 
don’t pay no two dollars, then, do ye ” 

“ No. There ’s got to be somebody a-goin’ 
round all the time, an’ Dinnis Quigg and 
me ’s confidential agents of the branch, an* 
what we says goes ” — slapping his overalls 
decisively with his fist. McGaw’s suggested 
stopper was being loosened on the vinegar. 

Tom’s fingers closed tightly. Her collar 
began to feel small. “ An’ I s’pose if ye said 
I should pay me men double wages, and put 
up the price o’ haulin’ so high that me cus- 
74 


A WALKING DELEGATE 


tomers could n't pay it, so that some of yer 
dirty loafers could cut in an’ git it, I ’d have to 
do it, whether I wanted to or not ; or maybe 
ye think I ’d oughter chuck some o’ me own 
boys into the road because they don’t belong 
to yer branch, as ye call it, and git a lot o’ 
dead beats to work in their places who don’t 
know a horse from a coal-bucket. An’ ye ’ll 
help me, will ye? Come out here on the 
front porch, Mr. Crimmins ” — opening the 
door with a jerk. ‘‘Do ye see that stable 
over there ? Well, it covers seven horses ; 
an’ the shed has six carts with all the har- 
ness. Back of it — perhaps if ye stand on 
yer toes even a little feller like you can see 
the top of another shed. That one has me 
derricks an’ tools.” 

Crimmins tried to interrupt long enough 
to free McGaw’s red pepper, but her words 
poured out in a torrent. 

“ Now ye can go back an’ tell Dan McGaw 
an’ the balance of yer two-dollar loafers that 
there ain’t a dollar owin’ on any horse in my 
stable, an’ that I ’ve earned everything I ’ve 
got without a man round to help ’cept those I 
pays wages to. An’ ye can tell ’em, too, that 
I ’ll hire who I please, an’ pay ’em what they 
75 


TOM GROGAN 


oughter git ; an’ I ’ll do me own haulin’ an’ 
unloadin’ fer nothin’ if it suits me. When 
ye said ye were a walkin’ delegate ye spoke 
God’s truth. Ye’d be a ridin’ delegate if ye 
could ; but there ’s one thing ye ’ll niver be, 
an’ that ’s a workin’ delegate, as long as ye 
kin find fools to pay ye wages fer bummin’ 
round day ’n’ night. If I had me way, ye 
would walk, but it would be on yer uppers, 
wid yer bare feet to the road.” 

Crimmins again attempted to speak, but 
she raised her arm threateningly : “ Now, if 
it ’s walkin’ ye are, ye can begin right away. 
Let me see ye earn yer wages down that 
garden an’ into the road. Come, lively now, 
before I disgrace meself a-layin’ hands on 
the likes of ye ! ” 


76 


V 


A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 

O NE morning Patsy came up the garden 
path limping on his crutch ; the little 
fellow’s eyes were full of tears. He had 
been out with his goat when some children 
from the tenements surrounded his cart, 
pitched it into the ditch, and followed him 
half way home, calling “ Scab ! scab ! ” at the 
top of their voices. 

Cully heard his cries, and ran through the 
yard to meet him, his anger rising at every 
step. To lay hands on Patsy was, to Cully, 
the unpardonable sin. Ever since the day, 
five years before, when Tom had taken him 
into her employ, a homeless waif of the 
streets, — his father had been drowned from 
a canal-boat she was unloading, — and had 
set him down beside Patsy’s crib to watch 
while she was at her work, Jennie being at 
school. Cully had loved the little cripple 
with the devotion of a dog to its master. 
77 


TOM GROGAN 


Lawless, rough, often cruel, and sometimes 
vindictive as Cully was to others, a word 
from Patsy humbled and softened him. 

And Patsy loved Cully. His big, broad 
chest, stout, straight legs, strong arms and 
hands, were his admiration and constant 
pride. Cully was his champion and his ideal. 
The waifs recklessness and audacity were to 
him only evidences of so much brains and 
energy. 

This love between the lads grew stronger 
after Tom had sent to Dublin for her old 
father, that she might have ‘^a man about 
the house.” Then a new blessing came, not 
only into the lives of both the lads, but into 
the whole household as well. Mullins, in 
his later years, had been a dependent about 
Trinity College, and constant association 
with books and students had given him a 
taste for knowledge denied his daughter. 
Tom had left home when a girl. In the long 
winter nights during the slack season, after 
the stalls were bedded and the horses were 
fed and watered and locked up for the night, 
the old man would draw up his chair to the 
big kerosene lamp on the table, and tell the 
boys stories — they listening with wide-open 

78 


A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 


eyes, Cully interrupting the narrative every 
now and then by such asides as “No flies on 
them fellers, wuz ther’, Patsy? They wuz 
daisies, they wuz. Go on. Pop ; it ’s bet- 
ter ’n a circus ; ” while Patsy would cheer 
aloud at the downfall of the vanquished, with 
their “three thousand lance-bearers put to 
death by the sword,” waving his crutch over 
his head in his enthusiasm. 

Jennie would come in too, and sit by her 
mother; and after Nilsson’s encounter with 
Quigg — an incident which greatly advanced 
him in Tom’s estimation — Cully would be 
sent to bring him in from his room over the 
stable and give him a chair with the others, 
that he might learn the language easier. 
At these times it was delightful to watch the 
expression of pride and happiness that would 
come over Tom’s face as she listened to her 
father’s talk. 

“ But ye have a great head, Gran’pop,” she 
would say. “ Cully, ye blatherin’ idiot, why 
don’t ye brace up an’ git some knowledge in 
yer head ? Sure, Gran’pop, Father McClus- 
key ain’t in it wid ye a minute. Ye could 
down the whole gang of ’em.” And the old 
man would smile faintly and say he had 
79 


TOM GROGAN 


heard the young gentlemen at the college 
recite the stories so many times he could 
never forget them. 

In this way the boys grew closer together, 
Patsy cramming himself from books during 
the day in order to tell Cully at night all 
about the Forty Thieves boiled in oil, or Ali 
Baba and his donkey, or poor man Friday to 
whom Robinson Crusoe was so kind ; and 
Cully relating in return how Jimmie Finn 
smashed Pat Gilsey’s face because he threw 
stones at his sister, ending with a full account 
of a dog-fight which a “snoozer of a cop” 
stopped with his club. 

So when Patsy came limping up the garden 
path this morning, rubbing his eyes, his voice 
choking, and the tears streaming, and, bury- 
ing his little face in Cully’s jacket, poured out 
his tale of insult and suffering, that valiant 
defender of the right pulled his cap tight over 
his eyes and began a still-hunt through the 
tenements. There, as he afterwards expressed 
it, he ‘‘mopped up the floor” with one after 
another of the ringleaders, beginning with 
young Billy McGaw, Dan’s eldest son and 
Cully’s senior. 

Tom was dumfounded at the attack on 
8o 


A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 


Patsy. This was a blow upon which she had 
not counted. To strike her Patsy, her crip- 
ple, her baby ! The cowardice of it incensed 
her. She knew instantly that her affairs 
must have been common talk about the 
tenements to have produced so great an 
effect upon the children. She felt sure that 
their fathers and mothers had encouraged 
them in it. 

In emergencies like this it was never to 
the old father that she turned. He wg.s too 
feeble, too much a thing of the past. While 
to a certain extent he influenced her life, 
standing always for the right and always for 
the kindest thing she could do, yet when it 
came to times of action and danger she felt 
the need of a younger and more vigorous 
mind. It was on Jennie, really more her 
companion than her daughter, that she de- 
pended for counsel and sympathy at these 
times. 

Tom did not underestimate the gravity of 
the situation. Up to that point in her career 
she had fought only the cold, the heat, the 
many weary hours of labor far into the night, 
and now and then some man like McGaw. 
But this stab from out the dark was a danger 

8i 


TOM GROGAN 


to which she was unused. She saw in this 
last move of McGaw’s, aided as he was by the 
Union, not only a determination to ruin her, 
but a plan to divide her business among a set 
of men who hated her as much on account of 
her success as for anything else. A few more 
horses and carts and another barn or two, and 
she herself would become a hated capitalist. 
That she had stood out in the wet and cold 
herself, hours at a time, like any man among 
them ; that she had, in her husband’s early 
days, helped him feed and bed their one horse, 
often currying him herself ; that when she 
and her Tom had moved to Rockville with 
their savings and there were three horses to 
care for and her husband needed more help 
than he could hire, she had brought her little 
baby Patsy to the stable while she worked 
there like a man ; that during all this time 
she had cooked and washed and kept the 
house tidy for four people ; that she had done 
all these things she felt would not count now 
with the Union, though each member of it 
was a bread-winner like herself. 

She knew what power it wielded. There 
had been the Martin family, honest, hard- 
working people, who had come down from 
82 


A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 


Haverstraw — the man and wife and their 
three children — and moved into the new ten- 
ement with all their nice furniture and new 
carpets. Tom had helped them unload these 
things from the brick-sloop that brought 
them. A few weeks after, poor Martin, still 
almost a stranger, had been brought home 
from the gas-house with his head laid open, 
because he had taken the place of a Union 
man discharged for drunkenness, and lingered 
for weeks until he died. Then the widow, 
with her children about her, had been put 
aboard another sloop that was going back to 
her old home. Tom remembered, as if it 
were yesterday, the heap of furniture and 
little pile of kitchen things sold under the 
red flag outside the store near the post-office. 

She had seen, too, the suffering and misery 
of her neighbors during the long strike at the 
brewery two years before, and the moving in 
and out from house to tenement and tene- 
ment to shanty, with never a day’s work after- 
ward for any man who left his job. She had 
helped many of the men who, three years 
before, had been driven out of work by the 
majority vote of the Carpenters’ Union, and 
who dared not go back and face the terrible 

83 


TOM GROGAN 


excommunication, the social boycott, with all 
its insults and cruelties. She shuddered as 
she thought again of her suspicions years ago 
when the bucket had fallen that crushed in 
her husband’s chest, and sent him to bed for 
months, only to leave it a wrecked man. The 
rope that held the bucket had been burned 
by acid, Dr. Mason said. Some grudge of 
the Union, she had always felt, was paid off 
then. 

She knew what the present trouble meant, 
now that it was started, and she knew in what 
it might end. But her courage never wavered. 
She ran over in her mind the names of the 
several men who were fighting her — McGaw, 
for whom she had a contempt ; Dempsey and 
Jimmie Brown, of the executive committee, 
both liquor-dealers ; Paterson, foreman of the 
gas-house ; and the rest — dangerous enemies, 
she knew. 

That night she sent for Nilsson to come to 
the house ; heard from him, word for word, 
of Quigg’s effort to corrupt him ; questioned 
Patsy closely, getting the names of the chil- 
dren who had abused him ; then calling 
Jennie into her bedroom, she locked the 
door behind them. 


84 


A WORD FROM THE TENEMENTS 




When they reentered the sitting-room, an 
hour later, Jennie’s lips were quivering. 
Tom’s mouth was firmly set. Her mind 
was made up. 

She would fight it out to the bitter end. 

8s 


VT 


THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 

HAT invincible spirit which dwelt in 



X Tom’s breast — that spirit which had 
dared Lathers, outwitted Duffy, cowed Crim- 
mins, and braved the Union, did not, strange 
to say, dominate all the members of her own 
household. One defied her. This was no 
other than that despoiler of new -washed 
clothes, old harness, wagon -grease, time- 
books, and spring flowers, that Arab of the 
open lot. Stumpy the goat. 

This supremacy of the goat had lasted 
since the eventful morning when, only a kid 
of tender days, he had come into the stable- 
yard and wobbled about on his uncertain 
legs, nestling down near the door where 
Patsy lay. During all these years he had 
ruled over Tom. At first because his fuzzy 
white back and soft, silky legs had been so 
precious to the little cripple, and later be- 
cause of his inexhaustible energy, his aggres- 


86 


THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 


siveness, and his marvelous activity. Brave 
spirits have fainted at the sight of spiders, 
others have turned pale at lizards, and some 
have shivered when cats crossed their paths. 
The only thing Tom feared on any num- 
ber of legs, from centipedes to men, was 
Stumpy. 

“ Git out, ye imp of Satan ! ” she would 
say, raising her hand when he wandered to'o 
near ; “ or I ’ll smash ye ! ” The next instant 
she would be dodging behind the cart out of 
the way of Stumpy’s lowered horns, with a 
scream as natural and as uncontrollable as 
that of a schoolgirl over a mouse. When he 
stood in the path cleared of snow from house 
to stable door, with head down, prepared to 
dispute every inch of the way with her, she 
would tramp yards around him, up to her 
knees in the drift, rather than face his ob- 
stinate front. 

The basest of ingratitude actuated the 
goat. When the accident occurred that 
gained him his sobriquet and lost him his 
tail, it was Tom’s quickness of hand alone 
that saved the remainder of his kidship from 
disappearing as his tail had done. Indeed, 
she not only choked the dog who attacked 

87 


TOM GROGAN 


him, until he loosened his hold from want of 
breath, but she threw him over the stable- 
yard fence as an additional mark of her dis- 
pleasure. 

In spite of her fear of him, Tom never 
dispossessed Stumpy. That her Patsy loved 
him insured him his place for life. 

So Stumpy roamed through yard, kitchen, 
and stable, stalking over bleaching sheets, 
burglarizing the garden gate, and grazing 
wherever he chose. 

The goat inspired no fear in anybody else. 
Jennie would chase him out of her way a 
dozen times a day, and Cully would play bull- 
fight with him, and Carl and the other men 
would accord him his proper place, spanking 
him with the flat of a shovel whenever he 
interfered with their daily duties, or shying 
a corn-cob after him when his alertness car- 
ried him out of their reach. 

This afternoon Jennie had missed her blue- 
checked apron. It had been drying on the 
line outside the kitchen door five minutes 
before. There was no one at home but her- 
self, and she had seen nobody pass the door. 
Perhaps the apron had blown over into the 
stable-yard. If it had, Carl would be sure 
88 


THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 


to have seen it. She knew Carl had come 
home ; she had been watching for him 
through the window. Then she ran in for 
her shawl. 

Carl was rubbing down the Big Gray. He 
had been hauling ice all the morning for the 
brewery. The Gray was under the cart- 
shed, a flood of winter sunlight silvering his 
shaggy mane and restless ears. The Swede 
was scraping his sides with the currycomb, 
and the Big Gray, accustomed to Cully’s gen- 
tler touch, was resenting the familiarity by 
biting at the tippet wound about the neck of 
the young man. 

Suddenly Carl raised his head — he had 
caught a glimpse of a flying apron whipping 
round the stable door. He knew the pattern. 
It always gave him a lump in his throat, and 
some little creepings down his back when he 
saw it. Then he laid down the currycomb. 
The next instant there came a sound as of a 
barrel-head knocked in by a mixing-shovel, 
and Stumpy flew through the door, followed 
by Carl on the run. The familiar bit of calico 
was Jennie’s lost apron. One half was inside 
the goat, the other half was in the hand of 
the Swede. 


89 


TOM GROGAN 


Carl hesitated for a moment, looked cau- 
tiously about the yard, and walked slowly 
toward the house, his eyes on the fragments. 
He never went to the house except when he 
was invited, either to hear Pop read or to 
take his dinner with the other men. At this 
instant Jennie came running out, the shawl 
about her head. 

“ Oh, Carl, did you find my apron } It 
blew away, and I thought it might have gone 
into the yard.’’ 

‘‘Yas, mees; an’ da goat see it too — 
luke!” extending the tattered fragments, 
anger and sorrow struggling for the mastery 
in his face. 

Well, I never ! Carl, it was a bran’-new 
one. Now just see, all the strings torn off 
and the top gone ! I ’m just going to give 
Stumpy a good beating.” 

Carl suggested that he run after the goat 
and bring him back ; but Jennie thought he 
was down the road by this time, and Carl had 
been working all the morning and must be 
tired. Besides, she must get some wood. 

Carl instantly forgot the goat. He had 
forgotten everything, indeed, except the trim 
little body who stood before him looking into 
90 


Carl Nilsson 


iT 




1 


r 


\ 


THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 


his eyes. He glowed all over with inward 
warmth and delight. Nobody had ever cared 
before whether he was tired. When he was 
a little fellow at home at Memlo his mother 
would sometimes worry about his lifting the 
big baskets of fish all day, but he could not 
remember that anybody else had ever given 
his feelings a thought. All this flashed 
through his mind as he returned Jennie’s 
look. 

** No, no ! I not tire — I brang da wood.” 
And then Jennie said she never meant it, and 
Carl knew she did n’t, of course ; and then 
she said she had never thought of such a 
thing, and he agreed to that ; and they talked 
so long over it, standing out in the radiance 
of the noonday sun, the color coming and 
going in both their faces, — Carl playing aim- 
lessly with his tippet tassel, and Jennie plait- 
ing and pinching up the ruined apron, — that 
the fire in the kitchen stove went out, and 
the Big Gray grew hungry and craned his 
long neck around the shed and whinnied for 
Carl, and even Stumpy the goat forgot his 
hair - breadth escape, and returned near 
enough to the scene of the robbery to look 
down at it from the hill above. 

93 


TOM GROGAN 


There is no telling how long the Big Gray 
would have waited if Cully had not come 
home to dinner, bringing another horse with 
Patsy perched on his back. The brewery 
was only a short distance, and Tom always 
gave her men a hot meal at the house when- 
ever it was possible. Had any other horse 
been neglected. Cully would not have cared ; 
but the Big Gray which he had driven ever 
since the day Tom brought him home, — 

Old Blowhard,” as he would often call him 
(the Gray was a bit wheezy), — the Big Gray 
without his dinner ! 

‘‘ Hully gee ! Look at de bloke a-jollying 
Jinnie, an’ de Blowhard a-starvin’. Say, 
Patsy,” — lifting him down, — hold de line 
till I git de Big Gray a bite. Git on ter Carl, 
will ye ! I’m a-goin’ — ter — tell — de — 
boss,” — with a threatening air, weighing 
each word — “ jes soon as she gits back. Ef 
I don’t I ’m a chump.” 

At sight of the boys, Jennie darted into 
the house, and Carl started for the stable, 
his head in the clouds, his feet on air. 

“ No ; I feed da horse. Cully,” — jerking at 
his halter to get him away from Cully. 

** A hell ov’er lot ye will ! I ’ll feed him 
94 


THE BIG GRAY GOES HUNGRY 


meself. He ’s been home an hour now, an* 
he ain’t half rubbed down.” 

Carl made a grab for Cully, who dodged 
and ran under the cart. Then a lump of ice 
whizzed past Carl’s ear. 

** Here, stop that ! ” said Tom, entering the 
gate. She had been in the city all the morn- 
ing — “to look after her poor Tom,” Pop 
said. “ Don’t ye be throwing things round 
here, or I ’ll land on top of ye.” 

“ Well, why don’t he feed de Gray, den ? 
He started afore me, and dey wants de Gray 
down ter de brewery, and he up ter de house 
a-buzzin’ Jinnie.” 

“ I go brang Mees Jan’s apron ; da goat eat 
it oop.” 

“Ye did, did ye! What ye givin’ us.^^ 
Did n’t I see ye a-chinnin’ ’er whin I come 
over de hill — she a-leanin’ up ag’in’ de fence, 
an’ youse a-talkin’ ter ’er, an’ ole Blowhard 
cry in’ like his heart was broke ? ” 

“ Eat up what apron ? ” said Tom, thor- 
oughly mystified over the situation. 

“ Stumpy eat da apron — I brang back da 
half ta Mees Jan.” 

“ An’ it took ye all the mornin’ to give it 
to her ? ” said Tom thoughtfully, looking 
95 


TOM GROGAN 


Carl straight in the eye, a new vista opening 
before her. 

That night when the circle gathered about 
the lamp to hear Pop read, Carl was missing. 
Tom had not sent for him. 


VII 


THE CONTENTS OF CULLY* S MAIL 

W HEN Walking Delegate Crimmins had 
recovered from his amazement, after 
his humiliating defeat at Tom’s hands, he 
stood irresolute for a moment outside her 
garden gate, indulged at some length in a 
form of profanity peculiar to his class, and 
then walked direct to McGaw’s house. 

That worthy Knight met him at the door. 
He had been waiting for him. 

Young Billy McGaw also saw Crimmins 
enter the gate, and promptly hid himself 
under the broken-down steps. He hoped to 
overhear what was going on when the two 
went out again. Young Billy’s inordinate 
curiosity was quite natural. He had heard 
enough of the current talk about the tene- 
ments and open lots to know that something 
of a revengeful and retaliatory nature against 
the Grogans was in the air ; but as nobody 
who knew the exact details had confided them 
97 


TOM GROGAN 


to him, he had determined upon an investi- 
gation of his own. He not only hated Cully, 
but the whole Grogan household, for the 
pounding he had received at his hands, so he 
was anxious to get even in some way. 

After McGaw had locked both doors, shut- 
ting out his wife and little Jack, their young- 
est, he took a bottle from the shelf, filled two 
half-tumblers, and squaring himself in his 
chair, said : — 

Did ye see her, Crimmy } ” 

I did,” replied Crimmins, swallowing the 
whiskey at a gulp. 

An’ she ’ll come in wid us, will she ? 

She will, will she ? She ’ll come in nothin’. 
I jollied her about her flowers, and thought 
I had her dead ter rights, when she up an’ 
asked me what we was a-goin’ to do for her if 
she jined, an’ afore I could tell her she opens 
the front door and gives me the dead cold.” 

Fired ye ? ” exclaimed McGaw incredu- 
lously. 

“ I ’m givin’ it to ye straight, Dan ; an’ she 
pulled a gun on me, too,” — telling the lie 
with perfect composure. ** That woman ’s no 
slouch, or I don’t know ’em. One thing ye 
can bet yer bottom dollar on — all h — can’t 
98 



. c- • 

i -V. 


. V 


Pin givin'' it to you straight^ Dan 


• ' »*.VT 

. ' ■ I 

• V » . 


r 


•V 






''//C 





'• I 




/' . 


^ ■a ^ ' - • • ' 


l'* 


4 * 




• 


,r 


J;V. 


r 


r!-. 




- ••• 
7 -:- 




•• *« 


» • r 

V 


•H * *J 


s 

' ♦ 




» . 


4 

« 




k K 

I 


-.r:a 











'V' . 


/’.‘‘‘•i. *> 


. V «• 

■ •.* 

.. .V‘ 




» . ‘ 




4> " 


v..»* 

iTS* 




>• 


i;.'; 


fx . 

• • 

• • 



V - 


C\ 


. > 


> 


5 ? • ‘ 




^ .•) . ' 


' .• • , , • f ' V- 


A > * 


iv ■ 



•\ 




/ , 


f < 


► 


► X 




A 

. » 


>-t 


j.. 






« 

1 


•'V 


. 1 


* k' 




i • 




m 

,1 




A', 


?c^ 


» • ■ 


f 




\' 

> 


•iji 




<• A 



• •/' 






;< 

i 

I 

', % 


>.• 

V', 


Iv 

•* i 


f • 


jV' - 




«•* - 


i •>/ ^ 








* ^ 


• > 




THE "CONTENTS OF CULLY'S MAIL 

scare her. We Ve got to try some other 
way,” 

It was the peculiarly fertile quality of 
Crimmins’s imagination that made him so 
valuable to some of his friends. 

When the conspirators reached the door, 
neither Crimmins nor his father was in a 
talkative mood, and Billy heard nothing. 
They lingered a moment on the sill, within 
a foot of his head as he lay in a cramped 
position below, and then they sauntered out, 
his father bareheaded, to the stable - yard. 
There McGaw leaned upon a cart-wheel, 
listening dejectedly to Crimmins, who seemed 
to be outlining a plan of some kind, which 
at intervals lightened the gloom of McGaw’s 
despair, judging from the expression of his 
father’s face. Then he turned hurriedly to 
the house, cursed his wife because he could 
not find his big fur cap, and started across to 
the village. Billy followed, keeping a safe 
distance behind. 

Tom after Patsy’s sad experience forbade 
him the streets, and never allowed him out of 
her sight unless Cully or her father were with 
him. She knew a storm was gathering, and 
she was watching the clouds and waiting 

lOI 


LcfC. 


TOM GROGAN 


for the first patter of rain. When it came 
she intended that every one of her people 
should be under cover. She had sent for 
Carl and her two stablemen, and told them 
that if they were dissatisfied in any way she 
wanted to know it at once. If the wages she 
was paying were not enough, she was willing 
to raise them, but she wanted them distinctly 
to understand that as she had built up the 
business herself, she was the only one who had 
a right to manage it, adding that she would 
rather clean and drive the horses herself than 
be dictated to by any person outside. She 
said that she saw trouble brewing, and knew 
that her men would feel it first. They must 
look out for themselves coming home late 
at night. At the brewery strike, two years 
before, hardly a day passed that some of the 
non-union men were not beaten into insensi- 
bility. 

That night Carl came back again to the 
porch door, and in his quiet, earnest way said : 
“We have t’ink ’bout da Union. Da men 
not go — not laik da union man. We not 
’fraid ” — tapping his hip-pocket, where, sailor- 
like, he always carried his knife sheathed in 
a leather case. 


102 


THE CONTENTS OF CULLY’S MAIL 


Tom’s eyes kindled as she looked into his 
manly face. She loved pluck and grit. She 
knew the color of the blood running in this 
young fellow’s veins. 

Week after week passed, and though now 
and then she caught the mutterings of dis- 
tant thunder, as Cully or some of the others 
overheard a remark on the ferry-boat or about 
the post-office, no other signs of the threat- 
ened storm were visible. 

Then it broke. 

One morning an important-looking envelope 
lay in her letter-box. It was long and puffy, 
and was stamped in the upper corner with a 
picture of a brewery in full operation. One 
end bore an inscription addressed to the 
postmaster, stating that in case Mr. Thomas 
Grogan was not found within ten days, it 
should be returned to Schwartz & Co., Brew- 
ers. 

The village post-office had several other 
letter-boxes, faced with glass, so that the con- 
tents of each could be seen from the outside. 
Two of these contained similar envelopes, 
looking equally important^ one being ad- 
dressed to McGaw. 

When he had called for his mail, the close 
103 


TOM GROGAN 


resemblance between the two envelopes seen 
in the letter-boxes set McGaw to thinking. 
Actual scrutiny through the glass revealed 
the picture of the brewery on each. He knew 
then that Tom had been asked to bid for the 
brewery hauling. That night a special meet- 
ing of the Union was called at eight o’clock. 
Quigg, Crimmins, and McGaw signed the 
call. 

“ Hully gee, what a wad ! ” said Cully, when 
the postmaster passed Tom’s big letter out 
to him. One of Cully’s duties was to go for 
the mail. 

When Pop broke the seal in Tom’s pres- 
ence, — one of Pop’s duties was to open what 
Cully brought, — out dropped a type-written 
sheet notifying Mr. Thomas Grogan that 
sealed proposals would be received up to 
March ist for “unloading, hauling, and deliv- 
ering to the bins of the Eagle Brewery ” so 
many tons of coal and malt, together with 
such supplies, etc. There were also blank 
forms in duplicate to be duly filled up with 
the price and signature of the bidder. This 
contract was given out once a year. Twice 
before it had been awarded to Thomas Gro- 
gan. The year before a man from Stapleton 
104 


THE CONTENTS OF CULLY’S MAIL 


had bid lowest, and had done the work. Mc- 
Gaw and his friends complained that it took 
the bread out of Rockville’s mouth ; but as 
the bidder belonged to the Union, no protest 
could be made. 

The morning after the meeting of the 
Union, McGaw went to New York by the 
early boat. He carried a letter from Pete 
Lathers, the yardmaster, to Crane & Co., of 
so potent a character that the coal-dealers 
agreed to lend McGaw five hundred dollars 
on his three-months’ note, taking a chattel 
mortgage on his teams and carts as security, 
the money to be paid McGaw as soon as the 
papers were drawn. McGaw, in return, was 
to use his “pull” to get a permit from the 
village trustees for the free use of the village 
dock by Crane & Co. for discharging their 
Rockville coal. This would save Crane half 
a mile to haul. It was this promise made 
by McGaw which really turned the scale in 
his favor. To hustle successfully it was often 
necessary for Crane to cut some sharp cor- 
ners. 

This dock, as McGaw knew perfectly well, 
had been leased to another party — the Fer- 
tilizing Company — for two years, and could 

105 


TOM GROGAN 


not possibly be placed at Crane’s disposal. 
But he said nothing of this to Crane. 

When the day of payment to McGaw ar- 
rived, Dempsey of the executive committee 
and Walking Delegate Quigg met McGaw at 
the ferry on his return from New York. 
McGaw had Crane’s money in his pocket. 
That night he paid two hundred dollars into 
the Union, two hundred to his feed-man on 
an account long overdue, and the balance to 
Quigg in a poker game in the back room 
over O’Leary’s bar. 

Tom also had an interview with Mr. Crane 
shortly after his interview with McGaw. 
Something she said about the dock having 
been leased to the Fertilizing Company caused 
Crane to leave his chair in a hurry, and ask 
his clerk in an angry voice if McGaw had yet 
been paid the money on his chattel mortgage. 
When his cashier showed him the stub of 
the check, dated two days before. Crane 
slammed the door behind him, his teeth set 
tight, little puffs of profanity escaping be- 
tween the openings. As he walked with 
Tom to the door, he said : — 

Send your papers up, Tom. I ’ll go bond 
any day in the year for you, and for any 

io6 


THE CONTENTS OF CULLY’S MAIL 


amount ; but I ’ll get even with McGaw for 
that lie he told me about the dock, if it takes 
my bank account.” 

The annual hauling contract for the brew- 
ery, which had become an important one in 
Rockville, its business having nearly doubled 
in the last few years, was of special value to 
Tom at this time, and she determined to 
make every effort to secure it. 

Pop filled up the proposal in his round, 
clear hand, and Tom signed it, ^‘Thomas 
Grogan, Rockville, Staten Island.” Then 
Pop witnessed it, and Mr. Crane, a few days 
later, duly inscribed the firm’s name under 
the clause reserved for bondsmen. After 
that Tom brought the bid home, and laid it 
on the shelf over her bed. 

Everything was now ready for the fight. 

The bids were to be opened at noon in the 
office of the brewery. 

By eleven o’clock the hangers-on and idlers 
began to lounge into the big yard paved with 
cobblestones. At half past eleven McGaw 
got out of a buggy, accompanied by Quigg. 
At a quarter to twelve Tom, in her hood and 
ulster, walked rapidly through the gate, and, 
without as much as a look at the men gath- 
107 


TOM GROGAN 


ered about the office door, pushed her way 
into the room. Then she picked up a chair 
and, placing it against the wall, sat down. 
Sticking out of the breast pocket of her ulster 
was the big envelope containing her bid. 

Five minutes before the hour the men be- 
gan filing in one by one, awkwardly uncover- 
ing their heads, and standing in one another’s 
way. Some, using their hats as screens, 
looked over the rims. When the bids were 
being gathered up by the clerk, Dennis 
Quigg handed over McGaw’s. The ease 
with which Dan had raised the money on 
his notes had invested that gentleman with 
some of the dignity and attributes of a capi- 
talist : the hired buggy and the obsequious 
Quigg indicated this. His new position was 
strengthened by the liberal way in which he 
had portioned out his possessions to the 
workingman. It was further sustained by 
the hope that he might perhaps repeat his 
generosities in the near future. 

At twelve p’clock precisely Mr. Schwartz, 
a round, bullet-headed German, entered the 
room, turned his revolving-chair, and began 
to cut the six envelopes heaped up before him 
on his desk, reading the prices aloud as he 

io8 


THE CONTENTS OF CULLY’S MAIL 


opened them in succession, the clerk record- 
ing. The first four were from parties in out- 
side villages. Then came McGaw’s : — 
Forty-nine cents for coal, etc.” 

So far he was lowest. Quigg twisted his 
hat nervously, and McGaw’s coarse face grew 
red and white by turns. 

Tom’s bid was the last. 

‘‘Thomas Grogan, Rockville, S. I., thirty- 
eight cents for coal, etc.” 

“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Schwartz, quietly^, 
“Thomas Grogan gets the hauling.” 

109 


VIII 


POP Mullins’s advice 
LMOST every man and woman in the 



Jr\ tenement district knew Oscar 
Schwartz, and had felt the power of his ob- 
stinate hand during the long strike of two 
years before, when, the Union having de- 
clared war, Schwartz had closed the brewery 
for several months rather than submit to its 
dictation. The news, therefore, that the 
Union had called a meeting and appointed 
a committee to wait on Mr. Schwartz, to pro- 
test against his giving work to a non-union 
woman filled them with alarm. The women 
remembered the privations and suffering of 
that winter, and the three dollars a week 
doled out to them by the Central Branch, 
while their husbands, who had been earning 
two and three dollars a day, were drinking 
at O’Leary’s bar, playing cards, or listening 
to the encouraging talk of the delegates who 
came from New York to keep up their spir- 


IIO 


V 



The Union . . . appomted a committee to wait ofi Mr. Schwartz 







POP MULLINS’S ADVICE 


its. The brewery employed a larger number 
of men than any other concern in Rockville, 
so trouble with its employees meant serious 
trouble for half the village if Schwartz defied 
the Union and selected a non-union woman 
to do the work. 

They knew, too, something of the indomit- 
able pluck and endurance of Tom Grogan. 
If she were lowest on the bids, she would 
fight for the contract, they felt sure, if it 
took her last dollar. McGaw was a fool, 
they said, to bid so high ; he might have 
known she would cut his throat, and bring 
them no end of trouble. 

Having nursed their resentment, and need- 
ing a common object for their wrath, the 
women broke out against Tom. Many of 
them had disliked her ever since the day, 
years ago, when she had been seen carrying 
her injured husband away at night to the 
hospital, after months of nursing at home. 
And the most envious had always maintained 
that she meant at the time to put him away 
forever where no one could find him, so that 
she might play the man herself. 

Why should she be a-comin’ in an’ a-rob- 
bin’ us of our pay ? ” muttered a coarse, red- 

113 


TOM GROGAN 


faced virago, her hair in a frowse about her 
head, her slatternly dress open at the throat. 

Oi ’ll be one to go an’ pull her off the dock 
and jump on her. What ’s she a-doin’, any- 
how, puttin’ down prices ? Ef her ole man 
had a leg to walk on, instid of his lyin’ to-day 
a cripple in the hospital, he ’d be back and be 
a-runnin’ things.” 

“ She ’s doin’ what she ’s a right to do,” 
broke out Mrs. Todd indignantly. Mrs. 
Todd was the wife of the foreman at the 
brewery, and an old friend of Tom’s. Tom 
had sat up with her child only the week 
before. Indeed, there were few women in 
the tenements, for all their outcry, who did 
not know how quick had been her hand to 
help when illness came, or the landlord 
threatened the sidewalk, or the undertaker 
insisted on his money in advance. 

“ It ’s not Tom Grogan that ’s crooked,” 
Mrs. Todd continued, ‘‘an’ ye all know it. 
It ’s that loafer, Dennis Quigg, and that old 
sneak, Crimmins. They never lifted their 
hands on a decent job in their lives, an’ don’t 
want to. When my man Jack was out of 
work for four months last winter, and there 
was n’t a pail of coal in the house, was n’t 
114 


POP MULLINS’S ADVICE 


Quigg gittin’ his four dollars a day for shoot- 
in’ off his mouth every night at O’Leary’s, 
an’ fillin’ the men’s heads full of capital and 
rights ? An’ Dan McGaw ’s no better. If 
ye ’re out for jumpin’ on people, Mrs. Mori- 
arty, begin with Quigg an’ some of the bum- 
mers as is runnin’ the Union, an’ as gits paid 
whether the men works or not.” 

“ Bedad, ye ’re roight,” said half a dozen 
women, the tide turning suddenly, while the 
excitement grew and spread, and other 
women came in from the several smaller ten- 
ements. 

“Is the trouble at the brewery ? ” asked a 
shrunken-looking woman, opening a door on 
the corridor, a faded shawl over her head. 
She was a new-comer, and had been in the 
tenement only a week or so — not long 
enough to have the run of the house or to 
know her neighbors. 

“Yes; at Schwartz’s,” said Mrs. Todd, 
stopping opposite her door on the way to her 
own rooms. “Your man’s got a job there, 
ain’t he } ” 

“He has, mum; he’s gateman — the fust 
job in six months. Ye don’t think they’ll 
make him throw it up, do ye, mum .? ” 

115 


TOM GROGAN 


*‘Yes; an’ break his head if he don’t. 
Thet ’s what they did to my man three years 
gone, till he had to come in with the gang 
and pay ’em two dollars a month,” replied 
Mrs. Todd. 

“ But my man ’s jined, mum, a month ago ; 
they would n’t let him work till he did. 
Won’t ye come in an’ set down ? It ’s a 
poor place we have — we ’ve been so long 
without work, an’ my girl ’s laid off with a 
cough. She ’s been a-workin’ at the box- 
factory. If the Union give notice again, I 
don’t know what ’ll become of us. Can’t we 
do somethin’ ? Maybe Mrs. Grogan might 
give up the work if she knew how it was wid 
us. She seems like a dacent woman ; she 
was in to look at me girl last week, bearin’ 
as how we were strangers an’ she very bad.” 

“ Oh, ye don’t know her. Ye can save yer 
wind and shoe-leather. She ’s on ter McGaw 
red hot ; that ’s the worst of it. He better 
look out ; she ’ll down him yet,” said Mrs. 
Todd. 

As the two entered the stuffy, close room 
for further discussion, a young girl left her 
seat by the window, and moved into the ad- 
joining apartment. She had that yellow, 
1 16 


POP MULLINS’S ADVICE 


waxy skin, hollow, burning eyes, and hectic 
flush which tell the fatal story so clearly. 

While the women of the tenements were 
cursing or wringing their hands, the men 
were devoting themselves to more vigorous 
measures. A meeting was called for nine 
o’clock at Lion Hall. 

It was held behind closed doors. Two 
walking delegates from Brooklyn were pres- 
ent, having been summoned by telegram the 
night before, and who were expected to coax 
or bully the weak-kneed, were the ultimatum 
sent to Schwartz refused and an order for a 
sympathetic strike issued. 

At the brewery all was quiet. Schwartz 
had read the notice left on his desk by the 
committee the night before, and had already 
begun his arrangements to supply the places 
of the men if a strike were ordered. When 
pressed by Quigg for a reply, he said qui- 
etly : — 

*‘The price for hauling will be Grogan’s 
bid. If she wants it, it is hers.” 

Tom talked the matter over with Pop, and 
had determined to buy another horse and hire 
two extra carts. At her price there was a 
margin of at least ten cents a ton profit, and 
117 


TOM GROGAN 


as the work lasted through the year, she 
could adjust the hauling of her other busi- 
ness without much extra expense. She dis- 
cussed the situation with no one outside her 
house. If Schwartz wanted her to carry on 
the work, she would do it. Union or no Union. 
Mr. Crane was on her bond. That in itself 
was a bracing factor. Strong and self-reli- 
ant as she was, the helping hand which this 
man held out to her was like an anchor in a 
storm. 

That Sunday night they were all gathered 
round the kerosene lamp, — Pop reading, 
Cully and Patsy on the floor, Jennie listen- 
ing absent-mindedly, her thoughts far away, 
— when there came a knock at the kitchen 
door. Jennie flew to open it. 

Outside stood two women. One was Mrs. 
Todd, the other the haggard, pinched, care- 
worn woman who had spoken to her that 
morning at her room-door in the tenement. 

They want to see you, mother,” said Jen- 
nie, all the light gone out of her eyes. What 
could be the matter with Carl, she thought. 
It had been this way for a week. 

‘‘ Well, bring ’em in. Hold on, I ’ll go 
meself.” 

ii8 


POP MULLINS’S ADVICE 


“She would come, Tom,” said Mrs. Todd, 
unwinding her shawl from her head and 
shoulders ; “ an’ ye must n’t blame me, fer 
it ’s none of my doin’s. Walk in, mum ; ye 
can speak to her yerself. Why, where is 
she.?” — looking out of the door into the 
darkness. “ Oh, here ye are ; I thought ye ’d 
skipped.” 

“ Do ye remember me ? ” said the woman, 
stepping into the room, her gaunt face look- 
ing more wretched under the flickering light 
of the candle than it had done in the morn- 
ing. “ I ’m the new-comer in the tenements. 
Ye were in to see my girl th’ other night. 
We’re in great trouble.” 

“ She ’s not dead ? ” said Tom, sinking into 
a chair. 

“No, thank God ; we ’ve got her still wid 
us ; but me man ’s come home to-night nigh 
crazy. He’s a-walkin’ the floor this minute, 
an’ so I goes to Mrs. Todd, an’ she come wid 
me. If he loses the job now, we ’re in the 
street. Only two weeks’ work since las’ fall, 
an’ the girl gettin’ worse every day, and 
every cint in the bank gone, an’ hardly a 
chair lef in the place. An’ I says to him, 
‘I’ll go meself. She come in to see Katie 
119 


TOM GROGAN 


th’ other night; she’ll listen to me.’ We 
lived in Newark, mum, an’ had four rooms 
and a mahogany sofa and two carpets, till 
the strike come in the clock-factory, an’ me 
man had to quit ; an’ then all winter — oh, 
we ’re not used to the likes of this ! ” — cov- 
ering her face with her shawl and bursting 
into tears. 

Tom had risen to her feet, her face express- 
ing the deepest sympathy for the woman, 
though she was at a loss to understand the 
cause of her visitor’s distress. 

“Is yer man fired ? ” she asked. 

“ No, an’ would n’t be if they ’d let him 
alone. He ’s sober an’ steady, an’ never 
tastes a drop, and brings his money home to 
me every Saturday night, and always done ; 
an’ now they ” — 

“ Well, what ’s the matter, then ? ” Tom 
could jiot stand much beating about the 
bush. 

“ Why, don’t ye know they ’ve give no- 
tice .? ” she said in astonishment ; then, as 
a misgiving entered her mind, “ Maybe I ’m 
wrong ; but me man an’ all of ’em tells me 
ye ’re a-buckin’ ag’in’ Mr. McGaw, an’ that 
ye has the haulin’ job at the brewery.” 

120 


POP MULLINS’S ADVICE 


** No/* said Tom, with emphasis, ye ’re 
not wrong; ye’re dead right. But who’s 
give notice ^ ” 

“The committee’s give notice, an’ the 
boss at the brewery says he’ll give ye the 
job if he has to shut up the brewery; an’ 
the committee ’s decided to-day that if he 
does they ’ll call out the men. My man is 
a member, and so I come over” — And 
she rested her head wearily against the door, 
the tears streaming down her face. 

Tom looked at her wonderingly, and then, 
putting her strong arms about her, hall car- 
ried her across the kitchen to a chair by the 
stove. Mrs. Todd leaned against the table, 
watching the sobbing woman. 

For a moment no one spoke. It was a 
new experience for Tom. Heretofore the 
fight had been her own and for her own. 
She had never supposed before that she filled 
so important a place in the neighborhood, 
and for a moment there flashed across her 
mind a certain justifiable pride in the situa- 
tion. But this feeling was momentary. Here 
was a suffering woman. For the first time 
she realized that one weaker than herself 
might suffer in the struggle. What could 

I2I 


TOM GROGAN 


she do to help her ? This thought was up- 
permost in her mind. 

Don’t ye worry,” she said tenderly. 
“ Schwartz won’t fire yer man.” 

“No; but the sluggers will. There was 
five men ’p’inted to-day to do up the scabs 
an’ the kickers who won’t go out. They near 
killed him once in Newark for kickin’. It 
was that time, you know, when Katie was 
first took bad.” 

“ Do ye know their names ? ” said Tom, 
her eyes flashing. 

“ No, an’ me man don’t. He ’s new, an’ 
they dar’s n’t trust him. It was in the back 
room, he says, they picked ’em out.” 

Tom stood for some moments in deep 
thought, gazing at the fire, her arms akimbo. 
Then, wheeling suddenly, she opened the 
door of the sitting-room, and said in a firm, 
resolute voice : — 

“ Gran’pop, come here ; I want ye.” 

The old man laid down his book, and stood 
in the kitchen doorway. He was in his shirt- 
sleeves, his spectacles on his forehead. 

“Come inside the kitchen, an’ shut that 
door behind ye. Here ’s me friend Jane 
Todd an’ a friend of hers from the tene- 


122 



Do ye know their na7nes?'*' said Tom 



POP MULLINS’S ADVICE 


ment. That thief of a McGaw has stirred up 
the Union over the haulin’ bid, and they’ve 
sent notice to Schwartz that I don’t belong 
to the Union, an’ if he don’t throw me over 
an’ give the job to McGaw they’ll call out 
the men. If they do, there ’s a hundred 
women and three times that many children 
that ’ll go hungry. This woman here ’s got 
a girl herself that has n’t drawed a well 
breath for six months, an’ her man’s been 
idle all winter, an’ only just now got a job at 
Schwartz’s, tending gate. Now, what ’ll I 
do ? Shall I chuck up the job or stick.?” 

The old man looked into the desolate, 
weary face of the woman and then at Tom. 
Then he said slowly : — 

‘*Well, child, ye kin do widout it, an’ 
maybe t’ others can’t.” 

“Ye ’ve got it straight,” said Tom ; “ that ’s 
just what I think meself.” Then, turning to 
the stranger : — 

“ Go home and tell yer man to go to bed. 
I ’ll touch nothin’ that ’ll break the heart 
of any woman. The job ’s McGaw’s. I ’ll 
throw up me bid.” 


125 


IX 


WHAT A SPARROW SAW 
VER since the eventful morning when 



JL i/ Carl had neglected the Big Gray for a 
stolen hour with Jennie, Cully had busied 
himself in devising ways of making the 
Swede’s life miserable. With a boy’s keen 
insight, he had discovered enough to con- 
vince him that Carl was ‘‘dead mashed on 
Jennie,” as he put it, but whether “for 
keeps ” or not he had not yet determined. 
He had already enriched his songs with cer- 
tain tender allusions to their present frame 
of mind and their future state of happiness. 
“Where was Moses when the light went 
out ? ” and “ Little Annie Rooney ” had 
undergone so subtle a change when sung at 
the top of Mr. James Finnegan’s voice that 
while the original warp and woof of those 
very popular melodies were entirely unrecog- 
nizable to any but the persons interested, to 
them they were as gall and wormwood. This 


126 


WHAT A SPARROW SAW 


was Cully’s invariable way of expressing his 
opinions on current affairs. He would sit 'on 
the front-board of his cart, — the Big Gray 
stumbling over the stones as he walked, the 
reins lying loose, — and fill the air with 
details of events passing in the village, with 
all the gusto of a variety actor. The impend- 
ing strike at the brewery had been made the 
basis of a paraphrase of “Johnnie, get your 
gun ; ” and even McGaw’s red head had come 
in for its share of abuse to the air of “Fire, 
boys, fire ! ” So for a time this new devel- 
opment of tenderness on the part of Carl 
for Jennie served to ring the changes on 
“Moses ” and “Annie Rooney.” 

Carl’s budding hopes had been slightly 
nipped by the cold look in Tom’s eye when 
she asked him if it took an hour to give Jen- 
nie a tattered apron. With some disappoint- 
ment he noticed that except at rare intervals, 
and only when Tom was at home, he was no 
longer invited to the house. He had always 
been a timid, shrinking fellow where a woman 
was concerned, having followed the sea and 
lived among men since he was sixteen years 
old. During these earlier years he had made 
two voyages in the Pacific, and another to 
127 


TOM GROGAN 


the whaling-ground in the Arctic seas. On 
this last voyage, in a gale of wind, he had 
saved all the lives aboard a brig, the crew 
helpless from scurvy. When the lifeboat 
reached the lee of her stern, Carl at the risk 
of his life climbed aboard, caught a line, and 
lowered the men, one by one, into the rescu- 
ing yawl. He could with perfect equanimity 
have faced another storm and rescued a sec- 
ond crew any hour of the day or night, but 
he could not face a woman’s displeasure. 
Moreover, what Tom wanted done was law to 
Carl. She had taken him out of the streets 
and given him a home. He would serve her 
in whatever way she wished as long as he 
lived. 

He and Gran’pop were fast friends. On 
rainy days, or when work was dull in the 
winter months, the old man would often 
come into Carl’s little chamber, next the har- 
ness-room in the stable, and sit on his bed by 
the hour. And Carl would tell him about 
his people at home, and show him the pic- 
tures tacked over his bed, those of his old 
mother with her white cap, and of the young 
sister who was soon to be married. 

On Sundays Carl followed Tom and her 
128 


WHAT A SPARROW SAW 

\ . 

family to church, waiting until they had left 
the house. He always sat far back near the 
door, so that he could see them come out. 
Then he would overtake Pop with Patsy, 
whenever the little fellow could go. This 
was not often, for now there were many days 
when the boy had to lie all day on the lounge 
in the sitting-room, poring over his books 
or playing with Stumpy, brought into the 
kitchen to amuse him. 

Since the day of Tom’s warning look, Carl 
rarely joined her daughter. Jennie would 
loiter by the way, speaking to the girls, but 
he would hang back. He felt that Tom did 
not want them together. 

One spring morning, however, a new com- 
plication arose. It was a morning when the 
sky was a delicate violet-blue, when the sun- 
light came tempered through a tender land 
haze and a filmy mist from the still sea, when 
all the air was redolent with sweet smells of 
coming spring, and all the girls were gay in 
new attire. Dennis Quigg had been loun- 
ging outside the church door, his silk hat and 
green satin necktie glistening in the sun. 
When Jennie tripped out Quigg started for- 
ward. The look on his face, as with swing- 
129 


TOM GROGAN 


•''ing shoulders he slouched beside her, sent a 
thrill of indignation through Carl. He could 
give her up, perhaps, if Tom insisted, but 
never to a man like Quigg. Before the walk- 
ing delegate had “passed the time of day,’* 
the young sailor was close beside Jennie, 
within touch of her hand. 

There was no love lost between the two 
men. Carl had not forgotten the proposi- 
tion Quigg had made to him to leave Tom’s 
employ, nor had Quigg forgotten the uplifted 
shovel with which his proposal had been 
greeted. Yet there was no well-defined 
jealousy between them. Mr. Walking Dele- 
gate Dennis Quigg, confidential agent of 
Branch No. 3, Knights of Labor, had too 
good an opinion of himself ever to look upon 
that “tow-headed duffer of a stable-boy” in 
the light of a rival. Nor could Carl for a 
moment think of that narrow-chested, red- 
faced, flashily dressed Knight as being able 
to mdke the slightest impression on “ Mees 
Jan.” 

Quigg, however, was more than welcome 
to Jennie to-day. A little sense of wounded 
pride sent the hot color to her cheeks when 
she thought of Carl’s apparent neglect. He 
130 


WHAT A SPARROW SAW 


had hardly spoken to her in weeks. What 
had she done that he should treat her so ? 
She would show him that there were just as 
good fellows about as Mr. Carl Nilsson. 

But all this faded out when Carl joined 
her — Carl, so straight, clear-skinned, brown, 
and ruddy ; his teeth so white ; his eyes so 
blue! She could see out of the corner of 
her eye how the hair curled in tiny rings on 
his temples. 

Still it was to Quigg she talked. And 
more than that, she gave him her prayer- 
book to carry until she fixed her glove — the 
glove that needed no fixing at all. And she 
chattered on about the dance at the boat 
club, and the picnic which was to come off 
when the weather grew warmer. 

And Carl walked silent beside her, with 
his head up and his heart down, and the 
tears very near his eyes. 

When they reached the outer gate of the 
stable-yard, and Quigg had slouched off with- 
out even raising his hat, — the absence of all 
courtesy stands in a certain class for a mark 
of higher respect, — Carl swung back the 
gate, and held it open for .her to pass in. 
Jennie loitered for a moment. There was a 

131 


TOM GROGAN 


look in Carl’s face she had not seen before. 
She had not meant to hurt him, she said to 
herself. 

‘‘What mak’ you no lak me anna more, 
Mees Jan? I big annough to carry da buke,” 
said Carl. 

“ Why, how you talk, Carl ! I never said 
such a word,” said Jennie, leaning over the 
fence, her heart fluttering. 

The air was soft as a caress. Opal-tinted 
clouds with violet shadows sailed above the 
low hills. In the shade of the fence dande- 
lions had burst into bloom. From a bush 
near by a song-sparrow flung a note of spring 
across the meadow. 

“ Well, you nev’ cam’ to stable anna more, 
Mees Jan,” Carl said slowly, in a tender, 
pleading tone, his gaze on her face. 

The girl reached through the fence for the 
golden flower. She dared not trust herself 
to look. She knew what was in her lover’s 
eyes. 

“ I get ta flower,” said Carl, vaulting the 
fence with one hand. 

“ No ; please don’t trouble. Oh, Carl ! ” 
she exclaimed suddenly. “ The horrid brier I 
My hand ’s all scratched ! ” 

132 



^^‘What uiak you no lak me anna more, Mees yan f" 




WHAT A SPARROW SAW 


‘‘Ah, Mees Jan, I so sorry! Let Carl 
see it,” he said, his voice melting. “I tak* 
ta brier out,” pushing back the tangled vines 
of last year to bring himself nearer. 

The clouds sailed on. The sparrow stood 
on its tallest toes and twisted its little neck. 

“ Oh, please do, Carl, it hurts so I ” she 
said, laying her little round hand in the big, 
strong, horny palm that had held the life-line 
the night of the wreck. 

The song-sparrow clung to the swaying 
top of a mullein-stalk near by, and poured 
out a strong, swelling, joyous song that well- 
nigh split its throat. 

When Tom called Jennie, half an hour 
later, she and Carl were still talking across 
the fence. 

135 


X 


CULLY WINS BY A NECK 

BOUT this time the labor element in 



Jr\ the village and vicinity was startled 
by an advertisement in the Rockville “Daily 
News,” signed by the clerk of the Board of 
Village Trustees, notifying contractors that 
thirty days thereafter, closing at nine p. m. 
precisely, separate sealed proposals would be 
received at the meeting-room of the board, 
over the post-office, for the hauling of twenty 
thousand cubic yards of fine crushed stone 
for use on the public highways ; bidders 
would be obliged to give suitable bonds, etc. ; 
certified check for five hundred dollars to 
accompany each bid as guaranty, etc. 

The news was a grateful surprise to the 
workingmen. The hauling and placing of so 
large an amount of material as soon as spring 
opened meant plenty of work for many shov- 
elers and pickers. The local politicians, of 
course, had known all about it for weeks; 


136 


CULLY WINS BY A NECK 


especially those who owned property front- 
ing on the streets to be improved: they 
had helped the appropriation through the 
finance committee. McGaw, too, had known 
about it from the first day of its discussion 
before the board. Those who were inside 
the ring had decided then that he would 
be the best man to haul the stone. The 
“steal,” they knew, could best be arranged 
in the tally of the carts — the final check 
on the scow measurement. They knew that 
McGaw’s accounts could be controlled, and 
the total result easily “fixed.” The stone 
itself had been purchased of the manufac- 
turers the year before, but there were not 
funds enough to put it on the roads at that 
time. 

Here, then, was McGaw’s chance. His 
triumph at obtaining the brewery contract 
was but short-lived. Schwartz had given 
him the work, but at Tom’s price, not at his 
own. McGaw had accepted it, hoping for 
profits that would help him with his chattel 
mortgage. After he had been at work for 
a month, however, he found that he ran be- 
hind. He began to see that, in spite of its 
boastings, the Union had really done nothing 

137 


TOM GROGAN 


for him, except indirectly with its threatened 
strike. The Union, on the other hand, in- 
sisted that it had been McGaw’s business to 
arrange his own terms with Schwartz. What 
it had done was to kill Grogan as a competi- 
tor, and knock her non-union men out of the 
job. This ended its duty. 

While they said this much to McGaw, 
so far as outsiders could know, the Union 
claimed that they had scored a brilliant vic- 
tory. The Brooklyn and New York branches 
duly paraded it as another triumph over capi- 
tal, and their bank accounts were accordingly 
increased with new dues and collections. 

With this new contract in his possession, 
McGaw felt certain he could cancel his debt 
with Crane and get even with the world. 
He began his arrangements at once. Police- 
Justice Rowan, the prospective candidate for 
the Assembly, who had acquired some landed 
property by the purchase of expired tax titles, 
agreed to furnish the certified check for five 
hundred dollars and to sign McGaw’s bond 
for a consideration to be subsequently agreed 
upon. A brother of Rowan’s, a contractor, 
who was finishing some grading at Quaran- 
tine Landing, had also consented, for a con- 

138 


CULLY WINS BY A NECK 


sideration, to loan McGaw what extra teams 
he required. 

The size of the contract was so great, and 
the deposit check and bond were so large, 
that McGaw concluded at once that the com- 
petition would be narrowed down between 
himself and Rowan’s brother, with Justice 
Rowan as backer, and perhaps one other firm 
from across the island, near New Brighton. 
His own advantage over other bidders was 
in his living on the spot, with his stables and 
teams near at hand. 

Tom, he felt assured, was out of the way. 
Not only was the contract very much too 
large for her, requiring twice as many carts 
as she possessed, but now that the spring 
work was about to begin, and Babcock’s sea- 
wall work to be resumed, she had all the 
stevedoring she could do for her own cus- 
tomers, without going outside for additional 
business. 

Moreover, she had apparently given up the 
fight, for she had bid on no work of any 
kind since the morning she had called upon 
Schwartz and told him, in her blunt, frank 
way, “ Give the work to McGaw at me price. 
It ’s enough and fair.” 

139 


TOM GROGAN 


Tom, meanwhile, made frequent visits to 
New York, returning late at night. One day 
she brought home a circular with cuts of sev- 
eral improved kinds of hoisting-engines with 
automatic dumping-buckets. She showed 
them to Pop under the kerosene lamp at 
night, explaining to him their advantages in 
handling small material like coal or broken 
stone. Once she so far relaxed her rules in 
regard to Jennie’s lover as to send for Carl 
to come to the house after supper, question- 
ing him closely about the upper rigging of a 
new derrick she had seen. Carl’s experience 
as a sailor was especially valuable in matters 
of this kind. He could not only splice a 
broken ‘Tall,” and repair the sheaves and 
friction-rollers in a hoisting-block, but when- 
ever the rigging got tangled aloft he could 
spring up the derrick like a cat and unreeve 
the rope in an instant. She also wrote to 
Babcock, asking him to stop at her house 
some morning on his way to the Quarantine 
Landing, where he was building a retaining- 
wall ; and when he arrived, she took him out 
to the shed where she kept her heavy der- 
ricks. That more experienced contractor at 
once became deeply interested, and made a 
140 


CULLY WINS BY A NECK 


series of sketches for her, on the back of an 
envelope, of an improved pintle and revolving- 
cap which he claimed would greatly improve 
the working of her derricks. These sketches 
she took to the village blacksmith next day, 
and by that night had an estimate of their 
cost. She was also seen one morning, when 
the new trolley company got rid of its old 
stock, at a sale of car-horses, watching the 
prices closely, and examining the condition 
of the animals sold. She asked the superin- 
tendent to drop her a postal when the next 
sale occurred. To her neighbors, however, 
and even to her own men, she said nothing. 
The only man in the village to whom she 
had spoken regarding the new work was the 
clerk of the board, and then only casually as 
to the exact time when the bids would be 
received. 

The day before the eventful night when 
the proposals were to be opened, Mr. Crane, 
in his buggy, stopped at her house on his way 
back from the fort, and they drove together 
to the ferry. When she returned she called 
Pop into the kitchen, shut the door, and 
showed him the bid duly signed and a slip 
of pink paper. This was a check of Crane 
141 


TOM GROGAN 


& Co/s to be deposited with the bid. Then 
she went down to the stable and had a long 
conference with Cully. 

The village Board of Trustees consisted 
of nine men, representing a fair average of 
the intelligence and honesty of the people. 
The president was a reputable hardware mer- 
chant, a very good citizen, who kept a store 
largely patronized by local contractors. The 
other members were two lawyers, — young 
men working up in practice with the assist- 
ance of a political pull, — a veterinary sur- 
geon, and five gentlemen of leisure, whose 
only visible means of support were derived 
from pool-rooms and ward meetings. Every 
man on the board, except the surgeon and 
the president, had some particular axe to 
grind. One wished to be sheriff ; another, 
county clerk. The five gentlemen of leisure 
wished to stay where they were. When a 
pie was cut, these five held the knife. It 
was their fault, they said, when they went 
hungry. 

In the side of this body politic the sur- 
geon was a thorn as sharp as any one of 
his scalpels. He was a hard-headed, sober- 
minded Scotchman, who had been elected 
142 


CULLY WINS BY A NECK 


to represent a group of his countrymen liv- 
ing in the eastern part of the village, and 
whose profession, the five supposed, indicated 
without doubt his entire willingness to see 
through a cart-wheel, especially when the hub 
was silver-plated. At the first meeting of 
the board they learned their mistake, but it 
did not worry them much. They had seven 
votes to two. 

The council-chamber of the board was a 
hall — large for Rockville — situated over the 
post-office, and only two doors from O’Leary’s 
barroom. It was the ordinary village hall, 
used for everything from a Christmas festi- 
val to a prize-fight. In summer it answered 
for a skating-rink. 

Once a month the board occupied it. On 
these occasions a sort of rostrum was brought 
in for the president, besides a square table and 
a dozen chairs. These were placed at one 
end, and were partitioned off by a wooden 
rail to form an inclosure, outside of which 
always stood the citizens. On the wall hung 
a big eight-day clock. Over the table, about 
which were placed chairs, a kerosene lamp 
swung on a brass chain. Opposite each seat 
lay a square of blotting-paper and some cheap 

143 


TOM GROGAN 


pens and paper. Down the middle of the 
table were three inkstands, standing in china 
plates. 

The board always met in the evening, 
as the business hours of the members pre- 
vented their giving the day to their deliber- 
ations. 

Upon the night of the letting of the con- 
tract the first man to arrive was McGaw. He 
ran up the stairs hurriedly, found no one he 
was looking for, and returned to O’Leary’s, 
where he was joined by Justice Rowan and 
his brother John, the contractor, Quigg, Crim- 
mins, and two friends of the Union. During 
the last week the Union was outspoken in 
its aid of McGaw, and its men had quietly 
passed the word of Hands off this job!” 
about in the neighborhood. If McGaw got 
the work — and there was now not the slight- 
est doubt of it — he would, of course, em- 
ploy all Union men. If anybody else got 
it — well, they would attend to him later. 
“ One thing was certain : no ‘ scab ’ from 
New Brighton should come over and take 
it.” They’d do up anybody who tried that 
game. 

When McGaw, surrounded by his friends, 
144 


CULLY WINS BY A NECK 


entered the board-room again, the place was 
full. Outside the rail stood a solid mass of 
people. Inside every seat was occupied. It 
was too important a meeting for any trustee 
to miss. 

McGaw stood on his toes and looked over 
the heads. To his delight, Tom was not in 
the room, and no one representing her. If he 
had had any lingering suspicion of her bid- 
ding, her non-appearance allayed it. He knew 
now that she was out of the race. Moreover, 
no New Brighton people had come. He whis- 
pered this information to Justice Rowan’s 
brother behind his big, speckled hand covered 
with its red, spidery hair. Then the two 
forced their way out again, reentered the 
post-office, and borrowed a pen. Once there, 
McGaw took from his side pocket two large 
envelopes, the contents of which he spread 
out under the light. 

“ I ’m dead roight,” said McGaw. ** I ’ll 
put up the price of this other bid. There 
ain’t a man round here that dares show his 
head. The Union ’s fixed ’em.” 

‘‘Will the woman bid.?” asked his com- 
panion. 

“ The woman ! What *d she be a-doin’ wid 

145 


TOM GROGAN 


a bid loike that? She c’u’dn’t handle the 
half of it. I ’ll wait till a few minutes to nine 
o’clock. Ye kin fix up both these bids an’ hold 
’em in yer pocket. Thin we kin see what bids 
is laid on the table. Ours ’ll go in last. If 
there ’s nothin’ else we ’ll give ’em the high 
one. I ’ll git inside the rail, so ’s to be near 
the table.” 

When the two squeezed back through the 
throng again into the board-room, even the 
staircase was packed. McGaw pulled off his 
fur cap and struggled past the rail, bowing 
to the president. The justice’s brother stood 
outside, within reach of McGaw’s hand. Mc- 
Gaw glanced at the clock and winked com- 
placently at his prospective partner — not a 
single bid had been handed in. Then he 
thrust out his long arm, took from Rowan’s 
brother the big envelope containing the higher 
bid, and dropped it on the table. 

Just then there was a commotion at the 
door. Somebody was trying to force a pas- 
sage in. The president rose from his chair, 
and looked over the crowd. McGaw started 
from his chair, looked anxiously at the clock, 
then at his partner. The body of a boy 
struggling like an eel worked its way through 
146 




Dat was a close shave ! ” 







CULLY WINS BY A NECK 


the mass, dodged under the wooden bar, and 
threw an envelope on the table. 

“ Dat ’s Tom Grogan’s bid,” he said, look- 
ing at the president. ** Hully gee ! but dat 
was a close shave ! She telled me not ter 
dump it till one minute o’ nine, an’ de bloke 
at de door come near sp’ilin’ de game till I 
give him one in de mug.” 

At this instant the clock struck nine, and 
the president’s gavel fell. 

** Time ’s up,” said the Scotchman, 

149 


XI 


A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 

HE excitement over the outcome of the 



X bidding was intense. The barroom 
at O’Leary’s was filled with a motley crowd 
of men, most of whom belonged to the Union, 
and all of whom had hoped to profit in some 
way had the contract fallen into the hands of 
the political ring who were dominating the 
affairs of the village. The more hot-headed 
and outspoken swore vengeance, not only 
against the horse-doctor, who had refused to 
permit McGaw to smuggle in the second 
bid, but against Crane & Co. and everybody 
else who had helped to defeat their schemes. 
They meant to boycott Crane before to- 
morrow night. He should not unload or 
freight another cargo of coal until they 
allowed it. The village powers, they ad- 
mitted, could not be boycotted, but they 
would do everything they could to make it 
uncomfortable for the board if it awarded 


*50 



{■ t 




A hit Tom V a keener'" 







A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 


the contract to Grogan. Neither would they 
forget the trustees at the next election. As 
to that smart Alec” of a horse-doctor, they 
knew how to fix him. Suppose it had struck 
nine and the polls had closed, what right had 
he to keep McGaw from handing in his 
other bid (Both were higher than Tom’s. 
This fact, however, McGaw had never men- 
tioned.) 

Around the tenements the interest was 
no less marked. Mr. Moriarty had sent 
the news of Tom’s success ringing through 
O’Leary’s, and Mrs. Moriarty, waiting out- 
side the barroom door for the pitcher her 
husband had filled for her inside, had spread 
its details through every hallway in the 
tenement. 

“Ah, but Tom ’s a keener,” said that gos- 
sip. “ Think of that little divil Cully jammed 
behind the door with her bid in his hand, 
a-waitin’ for the clock to get round to two 
minutes o’ nine, an’ that big stuff Dan 
McGaw sittin’ inside wid two bids up his 
sleeve ! Oh, but she ’s cunnin’, she is ! 
Dan ’s clean beat. He ’ll niver haul a shovel 
o’ that stone.” 

“How’ll she be a-doin’ a job like that ? ” 
153 


TOM GROGAN 


came from a woman listening over the ban- 
isters. 

Be doin’ ” rejoined a red-headed virago. 
‘‘ Would n’t ye be doin’ it yerself if ye had 
that big coal-dealer behind ye ” 

“ Oh, we hear enough. Who says they ’re 
in it ” rejoined a third listener. 

‘‘ Pete Lathers says so — the yard boss. 
He was a-tellin’ me man yisterday.” 

On consulting Justice Rowan the next 
morning, McGaw and his friends found but 
little comfort. The law was explicit, the 
justice said. The contract must be given to 
the lowest responsible bidder. Tom had 
deposited her certified check of five hundred 
dollars with the bid, and there was no infor- 
mality in her proposal. He was sorry for 
McGaw, but if Mrs. Grogan signed the con- 
tract there was no hope for him. The horse- 
doctor’s action was right. If McGaw’s sec- 
ond bid had been received, it would simply 
have invalidated both of his, the law forbid- 
ding two from the same bidder. 

Rowan’s opinion sustaining Tom’s right 
was a blow he did not expect. Furthermore, 
the justice offered no hope for the future. 
The law gave Tom the award, and nothing 
154 


A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 


could prevent her hauling the stone if she 
signed the contract. These words rang in 
McGaw’s ears — if she signed the contract. 
On this if hung his only hope. 

Rowan was too shrewd a politician, now 
that McGaw’s chances were gone, to advise 
any departure, even by a hair-line, from the 
strict letter of the law. He was, moreover, 
too upright as a justice to advise any mem- 
ber of the defeated party to an overt act 
which might look like unfairness to any bid- 
der concerned. He had had a talk, besides, 
with his brother over night, and they had 
accordingly determined to watch events. 
Should a way be found of rejecting on legal 
grounds Tom’s bid, making a new advertise- 
ment necessary, Rowan meant to ignore 
McGaw altogether, and have his brother bid 
in his own name. This determination was 
strengthened when McGaw, in a burst of 
confidence, told Rowan of his present finan- 
cial straits. 

From Rowan’s the complaining trio ad- 
journed to O’Leary’s barroom. Crimmins 
and McGaw entered first. Quigg arrived 
later. He closed one eye meaningly as he 
entered, and O’Leary handed a brass key to 

155 


TOM GROGAN 


him over the bar with the remark, ** Stamp 
on the floor three toimes, Dinny, an’ I ’ll 
send yez up what ye want to drink.” Then 
Crimmins opened a door concealed by a 
wooden screen, and the three disappeared up- 
stairs. Crimmins reappeared within an hour, 
and hurried out the front door. In a few 
moments he returned with Justice Rowan, 
who had adjourned court. Immediately after 
the justice’s arrival there came three raps 
from the floor above, and O’Leary swung 
back the door, and disappeared with an assort- 
ment of drinkables on a tray. 

The conference lasted until noon. Then 
the men separated outside the barroom. 
From the expression on the face of each one 
as he emerged from the door it was evident 
that the meeting had not produced any very 
cheering or conclusive results. McGaw had 
that vindictive, ugly, bulldog look about the 
eyes and mouth which always made his wife 
tremble when he came home. The result of 
the present struggle over the contract was 
a matter of life or death to him. His notes, 
secured by the chattel mortgage on his live 
stock, would be due in a few days. Crane 
had already notified him that they must be 
156 


A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 


paid, and he knew enough of his money- 
lender, and of the anger which he had roused, 
to know that no extension would be granted 
him. Losing this contract, he had lost his 
only hope of paying them. Had it been 
awarded him, he could have found a dozen 
men who would have loaned him the money 
to take up these notes and so to pay Crane. 
He had comforted himself the night before 
with the thought that Justice Rowan could 
find some way to help him out of his di- 
lemma; that the board would vote as the 
justice advised, and then, of course, Tom’s 
bid would be invalidated. Now even this 
hope had failed him. “ Whoever heard of a 
woman’s doing a job for a city.?” he kept 
repeating mechanically to himself. 

Tom knew of none of these conspiracies. 
Had she done so they would not have caused 
her a moment’s anxiety. Here was a fight 
in which no one would suffer except the head 
that got in her way, and she determined to 
hit that with all her might the moment it 
rose into view. This was no brewery con- 
tract, she argued with Pop, where five hun- 
dred men might be thrown out of employ- 
ment, with all the attendant suffering to 

157 


TOM GROGAN 


women and children. The village was a 
power nobody could boycott. Moreover, the 
law protected her in her rights under the 
award. She would therefore quietly wait 
until the day for signing the papers arrived, 
furnish her bond, and begin a work she 
could superintend herself. In the mean 
time she would continue her preparations. 
One thing she was resolved upon — she 
would have nothing to do with the Union. 
Carl could lay his hand on a dozen of his 
countrymen who would be glad to get em- 
ployment with her. If they were all like him 
she need have no fear in any emergency. 

She bought two horses — great strong ones, 
— at the trolley sale, and ordered two new 
carts from a manufacturer in Newark, to be 
sent to her on the first of the coming month. 

Her friends took her good fortxme less 
calmly. Their genuine satisfaction expressed 
itself in a variety of ways. Crane sent her 
this characteristic telegram : — 

Bully for you ! ” 

Babcock came all the way down to her 
home to offer her his congratulations, and to 
tender her what assistance she needed in 
tools or money. 

158 


A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 


The Union, in their deliberations, insisted 
that it was the raised bid ” which had 
ruined the business with McGaw and for 
them. It was therefore McGaw’ s duty to 
spare no effort to prevent her signing the 
contract. They had stuck by him in times 
gone by ; he must now stick by them. One 
point was positively insisted upon : Union 
men must be employed on the work, whoever 
got it. 

McGaw, however, was desperate. He de- 
nounced Tom in a vocabulary peculiar to 
himself and full of innuendoes and oaths, but 
without offering any suggestion as to how his 
threats against her might be carried out. 

With his usual slyness, Quigg said very lit- 
tle openly. He had not yet despaired of 
winning Jennie’s favor, and until that hope 
was abandoned he could hardly make up his 
mind which side of the fence he was on. 
Crimmins was even more indifferent in regard 
to the outcome — his pay as walking delegate 
went on, whichever side won ; he could wait. 

In this emergency McGaw again sought 
Crimmins ’s assistance. He urged the impor- 
tance of his getting the contract, and he 
promised to make Crimmins foreman on the 

159 


TOM GROGAN 


street, and to give him a share in the profits, 
if he would help him in some way to get the 
work now. The first step, he argued, was 
the necessity of crushing Tom. Everything 
else would be easy after that. Such a task, 
he felt, would not be altogether uncongenial 
to Crimmins, still smarting under Tom’s con- 
temptuous treatment of him the day he 
called upon her in his capacity of walking 
delegate. 

McGaw’s tempting promise made a deep 
impression upon Crimmins. He determined 
then and there to inflict some blow on Tom 
Grogan from which she could never recover. 
He was equally determined on one other 
thing — not to be caught. 

Early the next morning Crimmins sta- 
tioned himself outside O’Leary’s where he 
could get an uninterrupted view of two 
streets. He stood hunched up against the 
jamb of O’Leary’s door in the attitude of a 
corner loafer, with three parts of his body 
touching the wood — hip, shoulder, and 
cheek. For some time no one appeared in 
sight either useful or inimical to his plans, 
until Mr. James Finnegan, who was filling 
the morning air with one of his characteristic 
i6o 


A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 


songs, brightened the horizon up the street to 
his left. 

Cully’s unexpected appearance at that mo- 
ment produced so uncomfortable an effect 
upon Mr. Crimmins that that gentleman fell 
instantly back through the barroom door. 

The boy’s quick eye caught the movement, 
and it also caught a moment later, Mr. Crim- 
mins’s nose and watery eye peering out again 
when their owner had assured himself that 
his escape had been unseen. Cully slackened 
his pace to see what new move Crimmins 
would make — but without the slightest sign 
of recognition on his face — and again broke 
into song. He was on his way to get the 
mail, and had passed McGaw’s house but a 
few moments before, in the hope that that 
worthy Knight might be either leaning over 
the fence or seated on the broken-down 
porch. He was anxious McGaw should hear 
a few improvised stanzas of a new ballad he 
had composed to that delightful old negro 
melody, “Massa’s in de cold, cold ground,” 
in which the much-beloved Southern planter 
and the thoroughly hated McGaw changed 
places in the cemetery. 

That valiant Knight was still in bed, 

i6i 


TOM GROGAN 


exhausted by the labors of the previous even- 
ing. Young Billy, however, was about the 
stables, and so Mr. James Finnegan took 
occasion to tarry long enough in the road for 
the eldest son of his enemy to get the stanza 
by heart, in the hope that he might retail it 
to his father when he appeared. 

Billy dropped his manure-fork as soon as 
Cully had moved on again, and dodging be- 
hind the fence, followed him toward the post- 
office, hoping to hit the singer with a stone. 

When the slinking body of McGaw’s eldest 
son became visible to Mr. Crimmins, his face 
broke into creases so nearly imitative of a 
smile that his best friend would not have 
known him. He slapped the patched knees 
of his overalls gayly, bent over in a subdued 
chuckle, and disported himself in a merry 
and much satisfied way. His rum-and-watery 
eyes gleamed with delight, and even his chin- 
whisker took on a new vibration. Next he 
laid one finger along his nose, looked about 
him cautiously, and said to himself, in an 
undertone : — 

“ The very boy ! It ’ll fix McGaw dead to 
rights, an’ ther’ won’t be no squealin’ after 
it ’s done.” 


A TWO-DOLLAR BILL 


Here he peered around the edge of one of 
O’Leary’s drawn window-shades, and waited 
until Cully had passed the barroom, secured 
his mail, and started for home, his uninter- 
rupted song filling the air. Then he opened 
the blind very cautiously, and beckoned to 
Billy. 

Cully’s eye caught the new movement as 
he turned the corner. His song ceased. 
When Mr. Finnegan had anything very seri- 
ous on his mind he never sang. 

When, some time after, Billy emerged 
from O’Leary’s door, he had a two-dollar bill 
tightly squeezed in his right hand. Part of 
this he spent on his way home for a box of 
cigarettes ; the balance he invested in a mys- 
terious-looking tin can. The can was narrow 
and long and had a screw nozzle at one end. 
This can Cully saw him hide in a corner of 
his father’s stable. 


163 


XII 


cully’s night out 

VER since the night Cully, with the 



1 . 1/ news of the hair-breadth escape of the 
bid, had dashed back to Tom, waiting around 
the corner, he had been the hero of the hour. 
As she listened to his description of Mc- 
Gaw when her bid dropped on the table — 
‘‘ Lookin’ like he ’d eat sumpin’ he could n’t 
swaller — see ? ” her face was radiant, and her 
sides shook with laughter. She had counted 
upon McGaw falling into her trap, and she 
was delighted over the success of her experi- 
ment. Tom had once before caught him rais- 
ing a bid when he discovered that but one 
had been offered. 

In recognition of these valuable services 
Tom had given Cully two tickets for a circus 
which was then charming the inhabitants of 
New Brighton, a mile or more away, and he 
and Carl were going the following night. Mr. 
Finnegan was to wear a black sack-coat, a 


164 


CULLY’S NIGHT OUT 


derby hat, and a white shirt which Jennie, in 
the goodness of her heart, had ironed for him 
herself. She had also ironed a scarf of Carl’s, 
and had laid it on the window-sill of the outer 
kitchen, where Cully might find it as he 
passed by. 

The walks home from church were now 
about the only chance the lovers had of be- 
ing together. Almost every day Carl was off 
with the teams. When he did come home in 
working hours he would take his dinner with 
the men and boys in the outer kitchen. Jen- 
nie sometimes waited on them, but he rarely 
spoke to her as she passed in and out, except 
with his eyes. 

When Cully handed him the scarf, Carl had 
already dressed himself in his best clothes, 
producing so marked a change in the out- 
ward appearance of the young Swede that 
Cully in his admiration pronounced him “ out 
o’ sight.” 

Cully’s metamorphosis was even more com- 
plete than Carl’s. Now that the warm spring 
days were approaching, Mr. Finnegan had 
decided that his superabundant locks were 
unseasonable, and had therefore had his hair 
cropped close to his scalp, showing here and 

165 


TOM GROGAN 


there a white scar, the record of some former 
scrimmage. Reaching to the edge of each 
ear was a collar as stiff as pasteboard. His 
derby was tilted over his left eyebrow, shad- 
ing a face brimming over with fun and expec- 
tancy. Below this was a vermilion-colored 
necktie and a black coat and trousers. His 
shoes sported three coats of blacking, which 
only partly concealed the dust-marks of his 
profession. 

‘‘ Hully gee, Carl ! but de circus ’s a-goin' 
tei be a dandy,” he called out in delight, as 
he patted a double shuffle with his feet. “ I 
see de picters on de fence when I come from 
de ferry. Dere ’s a chariot-race out o’ sight, 
an’ a’ elephant what stands on ’is head. Hold 
on till I see ef de Big Gray ’s got enough 
beddin’ under him. He wuz awful stiff dis 
mornin’ when I helped him up.” Cully never 
went to bed without seeing the Gray first 
made comfortable for the night. 

The two young fellows saw all the sights, 
and after filling their pockets with peanuts 
and themselves with pink lemonade, took 
their seats at last under the canvas roof, 
where they waited impatiently for the per- 
formance to begin. 


i66 


CULLY’S NIGHT OUT 


The only departure from the ordinary rou- 
tine was Cully’s instant acceptance of the 
clown’s challenge to ride the trick mule, and 
his winning the wager amid the plaudits 
of the audience, after a rough-and-tumble 
scramble in the sawdust, sticking so tight to 
his back that a bystander remarked that the 
only way to get the boy off would be to ‘‘ peel 
the mule.” 

When they returned it was nearly midnight. 
Cully had taken off his choker,” as he called 
it, and had curled it outside his hat. They 
had walked over from the show, and the tight 
clutch of the collar greatly interfered with 
Cully’s discussion of the wonderful things he 
had seen. Besides, the mule had ruined it 
completely for a second use. 

It was a warm night for early spring, and 
Carl had his coat over his arm. When they 
reached the outer stable fence — the one near- 
est the village — Cully’s keen nose scented a 
peculiar odor. ‘‘Who ’s been a breakin’ de 
lamp round here, Carl.?” he asked, sniffing 
close to the ground. “Holy smoke! Look 
at de light in de stable — sumpin’ mus’ be de 
matter wid de Big Gray, or de ole woman 
would n’t be out dis time o’ night wid a lamp. 

167 


TOM GROGAN 


What would she be a-doin’ out here, any- 
way ? ” he exclaimed in a sudden anxious tone. 
‘‘Dis ain’t de road from de house. Hully 
gee ! Look out for yer coat ! De rails is 
a-soakin’ wid ker’sene ! ” 

At this moment a little flame shot out of 
the window over the Big Gray’s head and 
licked its way up the siding, followed by a 
column of smoke which burst through the 
door in the hay-loft above the stalls of the 
three horses next the bedroom of Carl and 
Cully. A window was hastily opened in Tom’s 
house and a frightened shriek broke the still- 
ness of the night. It was Jennie’s voice, and 
it had a tone of something besides alarm. 

What the sight of the fire had paralyzed in 
Carl, the voice awoke. 

‘^No, no ! I here — I safe, Jan ! ” he cried, 
clearing the fence with a bound. 

Cully did not hear Jennie. He saw only 
the curling flames over the Big Gray’s head. 
As he dashed down the slope he kept mutter- 
ing the old horse’s pet names, catching his 
breath, and calling to Carl, ‘‘ Save de Gray — 
save Ole Blowhard ! ” 

Cully reached the stable first, smashed the 
padlock with a shovel, and rushed into the 

i68 


CULLY’S NIGHT OUT 


Gray’s stall. Carl seized a horse-bucket, and 
began sousing the window-sills of the harness- 
room, where the fire was hottest. 

By this time the whole house was aroused. 
Tom, dazed by the sudden awakening, with 
her ulster thrown about her shoulders, stood 
barefooted on the porch. Jennie was still at 
the window, sobbing as if her heart would 
break, now that Carl was safe. Patsy had 
crawled out of his low crib by his mother’s 
bed, and was stumbling downstairs, one foot 
at a time. Twice had Cully tried to drag 
the old horse clear of his stall, and twice had 
he fallen back for fresh air. Then came 
a smothered cry from inside the blinding 
smoke, a burst of flame lighting up the stable, 
and the Big Gray was pushed out, his head 
wrapped in Carl’s coat, the Swede pressing 
behind. Cully coaxing him on, his arms around 
the horse’s neck. 

Hardly had the Big Gray cleared the stable 
when the roof of the small extension fell, and 
a great burst of flame shot up into the night 
air. All hope of rescuing the other two 
horses was now gone. 

Tom did not stand long dazed and be- 
wildered. In a twinkling she had drawn on 
169 


TOM GROGAN 


a pair of men’s boots over her bare feet, 
buckled her ulster over her night-dress, and 
rushed back upstairs to drag the blankets 
from the beds. Laden with these she sprang 
down the steps, called to Jennie to follow, 
soaked the bedding in the water-trough, and, 
picking up the dripping mass, carried it to 
Carl and Cully, who, now that the Gray was 
safely tied to the kitchen porch, were on the 
roof of the tool-house, fighting the sparks 
that fell on the shingles. 

By this time the neighbors began to arrive 
from the tenements. Tom took charge of 
every man as soon as he got his breath, sta- 
tioned two at the pump-handle, and formed a 
line of bucket-passers from the water-trough 
to Carl and Cully, who were spreading the 
blankets on the roof. The heat now was 
terrific ; Carl had to shield his face with his 
sleeve as he threw the water. Cully lay flat 
on the shingles, holding to the steaming 
blankets, and directing Carl’s buckets with 
his outstretched finger when some greater 
spark lodged and gained headway. If they 
could keep these burning brands under until 
the heat had spent itself, they could perhaps 
save the tool-house and the larger stable. 

170 


CULLY’S NIGHT OUT 


All this time Patsy had stood on the porch 
where Tom had left him hanging over the 
railing wrapped in Jennie’s shawl. He was 
not to move until she came for him : she 
wanted him out of the way of trampling feet. 
Now and then she would turn anxiously, 
catch sight of his wizened face dazed with 
fright, wave her hand to him encouragingly, 
and work on. 

Suddenly the little fellow gave a cry of 
terror and slid from the porch, trailing the 
shawl after him, his crutch jerking over the 
ground, his sobs almost choking him. 

‘‘Mammy! Cully! Stumpy’s tied in the 
loft ! Oh, somebody help me ! He ’s in the 
loft ! Oh, please, please ! ” 

In the roar of the flames nobody heard 
him. The noise of axes beating down the 
burning fences drowned all other sounds. At 
this moment Tom was standing on a cart, 
passing up the buckets to Carl. Cully had 
crawled to the ridge-pole of the tool-house to 
watch both sides of the threatened roof. 

The little cripple made his way slowly into 
the crowd nearest the sheltered side of the 
tool-house, pulling at the men’s coats, plead- 
ing with them to save his goat, his Stumpy. 

171 


TOM GROGAN 


On this side was a door opening into a 
room where the chains were kept. From it 
rose a short flight of six or seven steps lead- 
ing to the loft. This loft had two big doors 
— one closed, nearest the Are, and the other 
wide open, fronting the house. When the 
roof of the burning stable fell, the wisps of 
straw in the cracks of the closed door burst 
into flame. 

Within three feet of this blazing mass, 
shivering with fear, tugging at his rope, his 
eyes bursting from his head, stood Stumpy, 
his piteous bleatings unheard in the surround- 
ing roar. A child’s head appeared above the 
floor, followed by a cry of joy as the boy flung 
himself upon the straining rope. The next 
instant a half-frenzied goat sprang through 
the open door and landed in the yard below 
in the midst of the startled men and women. 

Tom was on the cart when she saw this 
streak of light flash out of the darkness of 
the loft door and disappear. Her eyes in- 
stinctively turned to look at Patsy in his place 
on the porch. Then a cry of horror burst 
from the crowd, silenced instantly as a pier- 
cing shriek filled the air. 

My God ! It ’s me Patsy ! ” 

172 



He carried the ahnost lifeless boy 


I 




CULLY’S NIGHT OUT 


Bareheaded in the open doorway of the now 
blaming loft, a silhouette against the flame, his 
little white gown reaching to his knees, his 
crutch gone, the stifling smoke rolling out in 
great whirls above his head, stood the cripple ! 

Tom hurled herself into the crowd, knock- 
ing the men out of her way, and ran towards 
the chain room door. At this instant a man 
in his shirt-sleeves dropped from the smok- 
ing roof, sprang in front of her, and caught 
her in his arms. 

No, not you go ; Carl go ! ” he said in a 
firm voice, holding her fast. 

Before she could speak he snatched a hand- 
kerchief from a woman’s neck, plunged it into 
the water of the horse-trough, bound it about 
his head, dashed up the short flight of steps, 
and crawled toward the terror-stricken child. 
There was a quick clutch, a bound back, and 
the smoke rolled over them, shutting man 
and child from view. 

The crowd held their breath as it waited. 
A man with his hair singed and his shirt on 
fire staggered from the side door. In his 
arms he** carried the almost lifeless boy, his 
face covered by the handkerchief. 

A woman rushed up, caught the boy in her 

175 


TOM GROGAN 


arms, and sank on her knees. The man 
reeled and fell. 

When Carl regained consciousness, Jennie 
was bending over him, chafing his hands and 
bathing his face. Patsy was on the sofa, 
wrapped in Jennie’s shawl. Pop was fanning 
him. Carl’s wet handkerchief, the old man 
said, had kept the boy from suffocating. 

The crowd had begun to disperse. The 
neighbors and strangers had gone their sev- 
eral ways. The tenement-house mob were 
on the road to their beds. Many friends had 
stopped to sympathize, and even the bitter- 
est of Tom’s enemies said they were glad it 
was no worse. 

When the last of them had left the yard, 
Tom, tired out with anxiety and hard work, 
threw herself down on the porch. The morn- 
ing was already breaking, the gray streaks of 
dawn brightening the east. From her seat 
she could hear through the open door the 
soothing tones of Jennie’s voice as she talked 
to her lover, and the hoarse whispers of Carl 
in reply. He had recovered his breath again, 
and was but little worse for his scorching, 
except in his speech. Jennie was in the 
176 


CULLY’S NIGHT OUT 


kitchen making some coffee for the exhausted 
workers, and he was helping her. 

Tom realized fully all that had happened. 
She knew who had saved Patsy’s life. She 
remembered how he laid her boy in her arms, 
and she still saw the deathly pallor in his 
face as he staggered and fell. What had he 
not done for her and her household since he 
entered her service ? If he loved Jennie, and 
she him, was it his fault.? Why did she 
rebel, and refuse this man a place in her 
home .? Then she thought of her own Tom 
no longer with her, and of her fight alone 
and without him. What would he have 
thought of it .? How would he have advised 
her to act .? He had always hoped such great 
things for Jennie. Would he now be willing 
to give her to this stranger.? If she could 
only talk to her Tom about it all ! 

As she sat, her head in her hand, the smok- 
ing stable, the eager wild-eyed crowd, the 
dead horses, faded away and became to her 
as a dream. She heard nothing but the voice 
of Jennie and her lover, saw only the white 
face of her boy. A sickening sense of utter 
loneliness swept over her. She rose and 
moved away. 


177 


TOM GROGAN 


During all this time Cully was watching 
the dying embers, and when all danger was 
over, — only the small stable with its two 
horses had been destroyed, — he led the Big 
Gray back to the pump, washed his head, 
sponging his eyes and mouth, and housed 
him in the big stable. Then he vanished. 

Immediately on leaving the Big Gray, Cully 
had dodged behind the stable, run rapidly up 
the hill, keeping close to the fence, and had 
come out behind a group of scattering specta- 
tors. There he began a series of complicated 
manoeuvres, mostly on his toes, lifting his 
head over those of the crowd, and ending 
in a sudden dart forward and as sudden a 
halt, within a few inches of young Billy Mc- 
Gaw’s coat-collar. 

Billy turned pale, but held his ground. He 
felt sure Cully would not dare attack him 
with so many others about. Then, again, the 
glow of the smouldering cinders had a fascina- 
tion for him that held him to the spot. 

Cully also seemed spellbound. The only 
view of the smoking ruins that satisfied him 
seemed to be the one he caught over young 
McGaw’s shoulder. He moved closer and 
closer, sniffing about cautiously, as a dog 
178 


CULLY’S NIGHT OUT 


would on a trail. Indeed, the closer he got 
to Billy’s coat the more absorbed he seemed 
to be in the view beyond. 

Here an extraordinary thing happened. 
There was a dipping of Cully’s head between 
Billy’s legs, a raising of both arms, grabbing 
Billy around the waist, and in a flash the 
hope of the house of McGaw was swept off 
his feet. Cully beneath him, and in full run to- 
ward Tom’s house. The bystanders laughed ; 
they thought it only a boyish trick. Billy 
kicked and struggled, but Cully held on. 
When they were clear of the crowd. Cully 
shook him to the ground and grabbed him by 
the coat-collar. 

“ Say, young feller, where wuz ye when de 
fire started ? ” 

At this Billy broke into a howl, and one 
of the crowd, some distance off, looked up. 
Cully clapped his hand over his mouth : 

None o’ that, or I ’ll mash yer mug — see ? ” 
standing over him with clenched fist. 

I war n’t nowheres,” stammered Billy. 
“ Say, take yer hands off ’n me — ye ain’t ” — 

“T’ell I ain’t! Ye answer me straight — 
see ? — or I ’ll punch yer face in,” tightening 
his grasp. “ What wuz ye a-doin’ when de 
179 


TOM GROGAN 


circus come out — an’, anoder t’ing, what ’s 
dis cologne yer got on yer coat ? Maybe next 
time ye climb a fence ye ’ll keep from spillin’ 
it, see ? Oh, I ’m onter ye. Ye set de stable 
afire. Dat ’s what ’s de matter.” 

“ I hope I may die — I wuz a-carryin’ de 
can er ker’sene home, an’ when de roof fell 
in I wuz up on de fence so I c’u’d see de fire, 
an’ de can slipped ” — 

“What fence.?” said Cully, shaking him 
as a terrier would a rat. 

“Why dat fence on de hill.” 

That was enough for Cully. He had his 
man. The lie had betrayed him. Without a 
word he jerked the cowardly boy from the 
ground, and marched him straight into the 
kitchen : — 

“Say, Carl, I got de fire-bug. Ye kin 
smell der ker’sene on his clo’es.” 

i8o 



Billy kicked aiid struggled, but Cully held him 





/ • •• \ 



k . I 


* : 


\ 


4 


■W i 


. •• 
k 

^ :> 


.k 


/ 


ii ■;■ ■ 


* • 


;.y- 


r • 





*x 

"V' 




tm 


•*4 




» . *• 


i ■ 


• k 

V 




( . » 


• • 


* **, 


• t 






ii*« 


•\’ 
' ^ 




<* ' ' , • « . 

* * ^ 




•r*. 


. 4 


N t 


f ♦ 
.« 




k ■•* 


. * 


■ V 

I • 


H : • 


^ • 

• j •• V* 

;y *. 


> • 






• • 

A. 


ir’ 


t* ^ 


t •‘•I 


i .»*■'- 


* ■• V 7^ 

■ / 2 s 

j’« t. -^SCl 


V,' 


•• * 




, ^ J. ;♦ 

V j *’i» • j‘ *v 

. .1 •'■.•'■ 

.VA 


■ 0 I 




.->v 






•^,’^f: 'i'lT**' .. rvT •• 

- ■■ •• , v-J; ^ ^ 

•« - /.• *V •• •••■'‘«SsA’c / . • ’ » > A/ 'A' * ' 

►'i -^-'tr. • r V-i-k-. . . * ‘ V i - 

v; ' ,.' •■ >'-i'<;'vvv 

1*^ ^ ' / V '•-■•■• • -"fwi 

■ X \ XV . V '^:v ■ -^xxvv-rt 4^ - .'r^ 

v 'vr-s^-v* -^^'v '^■■.v:''^' . -■■■i; 

‘'-W; f ■ '■*:■, ,. ■, ; - ,. ,l•> u'i^ 


4 


,.y ,• */ ;st - /V . ^ .. ^ 

* 'A *1- ■* *- 

L » It • I » . •.* *(' ’’J k 

■yl’' • A* ' ' ' • ^ 


' 4 


., ?v 





* 


r \' 




- .-.A 


k -• ' 

» 9 


' V.. 


“» k 


« ' 


: V'^ -* 

V* 


*. 




* ' 


ii ‘ 


. ». 


» • 


’ A • 

, ■ • R. 

^..Vr^ 


« 





- \s 

> 


» 

0 




7 • V % . 

- - 




v:.i 


^ r 


4 


; y 


• I 




k'f • .' V fNl. 4 


» Jl 


0 0* 


kv. 


I ^ ’ 4 




I 

« 


i'k 


•A ■’ • 


' t 








* ' i. 




.•» ’ • 




f 

4 r 


;■•' ''‘f ' 





. vA N - ..*/ 

' '_. '• >7 , ' »• ^L * 

Vl; 



. «*■’>.'• 'sV', -f! 



XIII 


MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 

M cGAW had watched the fire from his 
upper window with mingled joy and 
fear — joy that Tom’s property was on fire, 
and fear that it would be put out before she 
would be ruined. He had been waiting all 
the evening for Crimmins, who had failed to 
arrive. Billy had not been at home since 
supper, so he could get no details as to the 
amount of the damage from that source. In 
this emergency he sent next morning for 
Quigg to make a reconnaissance in the vicin- 
ity of the enemy’s camp, ascertain how badly 
Tom had been crippled, and learn whether 
her loss would prevent her signing the con- 
tract the following night. Mr. Quigg ac- 
cepted the mission, the more willingly be- 
cause he wanted to settle certain affairs of 
his own. Jennie had avoided him lately, — 
why he could not tell, — and he determined, 
before communicating to his employer the 
183 


TOM GROGAN 


results of his inquiries about Tom, to know 
exactly what his own chances were with the 
girl. He could slip over to the house while 
Tom was in the city, and leave before she 
returned. 

On his way, the next day, he robbed a gar- 
den fence of a mass of lilacs, breaking off 
the leaves as he walked. When he reached 
the door of the big stable he stopped for 
a moment, glanced cautiously in to see if he 
could find any preparations for the new 
work, and then, making a mental note of 
the surroundings, followed the path to the 
porch. 

Pop opened the door. He knew Quigg 
only by sight — an unpleasant sight, he 
thought, as he looked into his hesitating, 
wavering eyes. 

“ It ’s a bad fire ye had, Mr. Mullins,” said 
Quigg, seating himself in the rocker, the 
blossoms half strangled in his grasp. 

*‘Yis, purty bad, but small loss, thank 
God,” said Pop quietly. 

‘‘ That lets her out of the contract, don’t 
it .? ” said Quigg. ** She ’ll be short of horses 
now.” 

Pop made no answer. He did not intend 
184 


MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 

to give Mr. Quigg any information that might 
comfort him. 

“Were ye insured asked Quigg, in a 
cautious tone, his eyes on the lilacs. 

“ Oh, yis, ivery pinny on what was burned, 
so Mary tells me.” 

Quigg caught his breath ; the rumor in 
the village was the other way. Why did n’t 
Crimmins make a clean sweep of it and burn 
’em all at once, he said to himself. 

“I brought some flowers over for Miss 
Jennie,” said Quigg, regaining his composure. 
“ Is she in .? ” 

“ Yis ; I ’ll call her.” Gentle and appar- 
ently harmless as Gran’pop was, men like 
Quigg somehow never looked him steadily in 
the eye. 

“I was tellin’ Mr. Mullins I brought ye 
over some flowers,” said Quigg, turning to 
Jennie as she entered, and handing her the 
bunch without leaving his seat, as if it had 
been a pair of shoes. 

“You ’re very kind, Mr. Quigg,” said the 
girl, laying them on the table, and still standing. 

“ I bear’d your brother Patsy was near 
smothered till Dutchy got him out. Was ye 
there?” 


TOM GROGAN 


Jennie bit her lip and her heart quickened. 
Carl’s sobriquet in the village, coming from 
such lips, sent the hot blood to her cheeks. 

*‘Yes, Mr. Nilsson saved his life,” she 
answered slowly, with girlish dignity, a back- 
ward rush filling her heart as she remembered 
Carl staggering out of the burning stable, 
Patsy held close to his breast. 

‘‘ The fellers in Rockville say ye think it 
was set afire. I see Justice Rowan turned 
Billy McGaw loose. Do ye suspect anybody 
else ? Some says a tramp crawled in and 
upset his pipe.” 

This lie was coined on the spot and issued 
immediately to see if it would pass. 

‘‘ Mother says she knows who did it, and 
it ’ll all come out in time. Cully found the 
can this morning,” said Jennie, leaning 
against the table. 

Quigg’s jaw fell and his brow knit as Jen- 
nie spoke. That was just like the fool, he 
said to himself. Why did n’t he get the stuff 
in a bottle and then break it ? 

But the subject was too dangerous to lin- 
ger over, so he began talking of the dance 
down at the Town Hall, and the meeting last 
Sunday after church. He asked her if she 

i86 


MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 


would go with him to the “ sociable ” they 
were going to have at No. 4 Truck-house; 
and when she said she could n’t, — that her 
mother didn’t want her to go out, etc., — 
Quigg moved his chair closer, with the re- 
mark that the old woman was always putting 
her oar in and spoiling things ; the way she 
was going on with the Union would ruin her ; 
she ’d better join in with the boys, and be 
friendly ; they ’d ‘^down her yet if she did n’t.” 

“ I hope nothing will happen to mother, 
Mr. Quigg,” said Jennie, in an anxious tone, 
as she sank into a chair. 

Quigg misunderstood the movement, and 
moved his own closer. 

‘‘There won’t nothin’ happen any more, 
Jennie, if you ’ll do as I say.” 

It was the first time he had ever called her 
by her name. She could not understand how 
he dared. She wished Carl would come in. 

“Will you do it?” asked Quigg eagerly, 
his cunning face and mean eyes turned to- 
ward her. 

Jennie never raised her head. Her cheeks 
were burning. Quigg went on, — 

“ I ’ve been keepin’ company with ye, Jen- 
nie, all winter, and the fellers is guyin’ me 
187 


TOM GROGAN 


about it. You know I ’m solid with the 
Union and can help yer mother, and if ye ’ll 
let me speak to Father McCluskey next Sun- 
day”— 

The girl sprang from her chair. 

“ I won’t have you talk that way to me, 
Dennis Quigg ! I never said a word to you, 
and you know it.” Her mother’s spirit was 
now flashing in her eyes. “ You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself to come here — and” — 

Then she broke down. 

Another woman would have managed it 
differently, perhaps, — by a laugh, a smile of 
contempt, or a frigid refusal. This mere 
child, stung to the quick by Quigg’ s insult, 
had only her tears in defense. The Walking 
Delegate turned his head and looked out of 
the window. Then he caught up his hat and 
without a word to the sobbing girl hastily left 
the room. 

Tom was just entering the lower gate. 
Quigg saw her and tried to dodge behind the 
tool-house, but it was too late, so he faced 
her. Tom’s keen eye caught the sly move- 
ment and the quickly altered expression. 
Some new trickery was in the air, she knew ; 
she detected it in every line of Quigg’s face. 

i88 


MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 

What was McGaw up to now.^* she asked 
herself. Was he after Carl and the men, or 
getting ready to burn the other stable } 

“ Good - morning, Mr. Quigg. Ain’t ye 
lost ? ” she asked coldly. 

“ Oh no,” said Quigg, with a forced laugh. 
“ I come over to see if I could help about the 
fire.” 

It was the first thing that came into his 
head ; he had hoped to pass with only a nod 
of greeting. 

Did ye?” replied Tom thoughtfully. She 
saw he had lied, but she led him on. What 
kind of help did ye think of givin’ ? The in- 
surance company will pay the money, the two 
horses is buried, an’ we begin diggin’ post- 
holes for a new stable in the mornin’. Per- 
haps ye were thinkin’ of lendin’ a hand yer- 
self. If ye did, I can put ye alongside of 
Carl ; one shovel might do for both of ye.” 

Quigg colored and laughed uneasily. Some- 
body had told her, then, how Carl had threat- 
ened him with uplifted shovel when he tried 
to coax the Swede away. 

No, I ’m not diggin’ these days ; but I ’ve 
got a pull wid the insurance adjuster, and 
might git an extra allowance for yer.” This 
189 


TOM GROGAN 


was cut from whole cloth. He had never 
known an adjuster in his life. 

“What’s that.?” asked Tom, still looking 
square at him, Quigg squirming under her 
glance like a worm on a pin. 

“Well, the company can’t tell how much 
feed was in the bins, and tools, and sech 
like,” he said, with another laugh. 

A laugh is always a safe parry when a pair 
of clear gray search-light eyes are cutting 
into one like a rapier. 

“ An’ yer idea is for me to git paid for stuff 
that was n’t burned up, is it .? ” 

“Well, that’s as how the adjuster says. 
Sometimes he sees it an’ sometimes he don’t 
— that ’s where the pull comes in.” 

Tom put her arms akimbo, her favorite 
attitude when her anger began to rise. 

“ Oh I see ! The pull is in bribin’ the ad- 
juster, as ye call him, so he can cheat the 
company.” 

Quigg shrugged his shoulders ; that part 
of the transaction was a mere trifle. What 
were companies made for but to be cheated .? 

Tom stood for a minute looking him all 
over. 

“ Dennis Quigg,” she said slowly, weighing 
190 


MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 


each word, her eyes riveted on his face, 
“ ye ’re a very sharp young man ; ye ’re so 
very sharp that I wonder ye ’ve gone so long 
without cuttin’ yerself. But one thing I tell 
ye, an’ that is, if ye keep on the way ye ’re 
a-goin’ ye ’ll land where you belong, and 
that ’s up the river in a potato-bug suit of 
clothes. Turn yer head this way, Quigg. 
Did ye niver in yer whole life think there was 
somethin’ worth the havin’ in bein’ honest an’ 
clean an’ square, an’ holdin’ yer head up like 
a man, instead of skulkin’ round like a thief ? 
What ye ’re up to this mornin’ I don’t know 
yet, but I want to tell ye it ’s the wrong time 
o’ day for ye to make calls, and the night ’s 
not much better, unless ye ’re particularly 
invited.” 

Quigg smothered a curse and turned on his 
heel toward the village. When he reached 
O’Leary’s, Dempsey of the Executive Com- 
mittee met him at the door. He and Mc- 
Gaw had spent the whole morning in devising 
plans to keep Tom out of the board-room. 

Quigg’ s report was not reassuring. She 
would be paid her insurance money, he said, 
and would certainly be at the meeting that 
night. 

191 


TOM GROGAN 


The three adjourned to the room over the 
bar. McGaw began pacing the floor, his 
long arms hooked behind his back. He had 
passed a sleepless night, and every hour now 
added to his anxiety. His face was a dull 
gray yellow, and his eyes were sunken. Now 
and then he would tug at his collar nervously. 
As he walked he clutched his fingers, burying 
the nails in the palms, the red hair on his 
wrists bristling like spiders’ legs. Dempsey 
sat at the table watching him calmly out of 
the corner of his eye. 

After a pause Quigg leaned over, his lips 
close to Dempsey’s ear. Then he drew a 
plan on the back of an old wine-list. It 
marked the position of the door in Tom’s 
stable, and that of a path which ran across 
lots and was concealed from her house by a 
low fence. Dempsey studied it a moment, 
nodding at Quigg’s whispered explanations, 
and passed it to McGaw, repeating Quigg’s 
words. McGaw stopped and bent his head. 
A dull gleam flashed out of his smouldering 
eyes. The lines of his face hardened and 
his jaw tightened. For some minutes he 
stood irresolute, gazing vacantly over the bud- 
ding trees through the window. Then he 
192 


MR. QUIGG DRAWS A PLAN 


turned sharply, swallowed a brimming glass 
of raw whiskey, and left the room. 

When the sound of his footsteps had died 
away, Dempsey looked at Quigg meaningly 
and gave a low laugh. 


XIV 


BLOSSOM-WEEK 

I T was ‘‘blossom-week,” and every garden 
and hedge flaunted its bloom in the 
soft air. All about was the perfume of flow- 
ers, the odor of fresh grass, and that peculiar 
earthy smell of new-made garden beds but 
lately sprinkled. Behind the hill overlooking 
the harbor the sun was just sinking into the 
sea. Some sentinel cedars guarding its crest 
stood out in clear relief against the golden 
light. About their tops, in wide circles, 
swooped a flock of crows. 

Gran’pop and Tom sat on the front porch, 
their chairs touching, his hand on hers. She 
had been telling him of Quigg’s visit that 
morning. She had changed her dress for a 
new one. The dress was of brown cloth, and 
had been made in the village — tight where 
it should be loose, and loose where it should 
be tight. She had put it on, she told Pop, to 
194 


BLOSSOM-WEEK 


make a creditable appearance before the 
board that night. 

Jennie was flitting in and out between the 
sitting-room and the garden, her hands full 
of blossoms, filling the china jars on the man- 
tel : none of them contained Quigg’s con- 
tribution. Patsy was flat on his back on the 
small patch of green surrounding the porch, 
playing circus-elephant with Stumpy, who 
stood over him with leveled head. 

Up the hill, but a few rods away. Cully 
was grazing the Big Gray — the old horse 
munching tufts of fresh, sweet grass sprin- 
kled with dandelions. Cully walked beside 
him. Now and then he lifted one of his legs, 
examining the hoof critically for possible 
tender places. 

There was nothing the matter with the 
Gray ; the old horse was still sound : but it 
satisfied Cully to be assured, and it satisfied, 
too, a certain yearning tenderness in his heart 
toward his old chum. Once in a while he 
would pat the Gray’s neck, smoothing his 
ragged, half worn mane, addressing him all 
the while in words of endearment expressed 
in a slang positively profane and utterly with- 
out meaning except to these two. 

195 


TOM GROGAN 


Suddenly Jennie’s cheek flushed as she 
came out on the porch. Carl was coming up 
the path. The young Swede was bareheaded, 
the short blond curls glistening in the light ; 
his throat was bare too, so that one could see 
the big muscles in his neck. Jennie always 
liked him with his throat bare ; it reminded 
her of a hero she had once seen in a play, 
who stormed a fort and rescued all the starv- 
ing women. 

“Da brown horse seek; batta come to 
stabble an’ see him,” Carl said, going direct 
to the porch, where he stood in front of Tom, 
resting one hand on his hip, his eyes never 
wandering from her face. He knew where 
Jennie was, but he never looked. 

“ What ’s the matter with him ? ” asked 
Tom, her thoughts far away at the moment. 

“I don’ know; he no eat da oats en da 
box.” 

“Will he drink.?” said Tom, awakening to 
the importance of the information. 

“ Yas ; ’mos’ two buckets.” 

“ It ’s fever he ’s got,” she said, turning to 
Pop. “ I thought that yisterday noon when I 
seen him a-workin’. All right, Carl ; I ’ll be 
down before I go to the board meetin’. An’ 
196 


BLOSSOM-WEEK 


see here, Carl ; ye ’d better git ready to go 
wid me. I ’ll start in a couple o’ hours. Will 
it suit ye, Gran’pop, if Carl goes with me } ” 
— patting her father’s shoulder. If ye keep 
on a-worritin’ I ’ll hev to hire a cop to follow 
me round.” 

Carl lingered for a moment on the steps. 
Perhaps Tom had some further orders ; per- 
haps, too, Jennie would come out again. In- 
voluntarily his eye wandered toward the open 
door, and then he turned to go. Jennie’s 
heart sprang up in her throat. She had seen 
from behind the curtains the shade of disap- 
pointment that crossed her lover’s face. She 
could suffer herself, but she could not see 
Carl unhappy. In an instant she was beside 
her mother. Anything to keep Carl — she 
did not care what. 

Oh, Carl, will you bring the ladder so I 
can reach the long branches ? ” she said, her 
quick wit helping her with a subterfuge. 

Carl turned and glanced at Tom. He 
felt the look in her face and could read her 
thoughts. 

If Tom had heard Jennie she never moved. 
This affair must end in some way, she said 
to herself. Why had she not sent him away 
197 


TOM GROGAN 


long before ? How could she do it now when 
he had risked his life to save Patsy ? 

Then she answered firmly, still without 
turning her head, “No, Jennie ; there won’t 
be time. Carl must get ready to ” — 

Pop laid his hand on hers. 

“ There ’s plinty o’ toime, Mary. Ye ’ll git 
the ladder behint the kitchen door, Carl. I 
hed it ther’ mesilf this mornin’.” 

Carl found the ladder, steadied it against 
the tree, and guided Jennie’s little feet till 
they reached the topmost round, holding on 
to her skirts so that she should not fall. 
Above their heads the branches twined and 
interlaced, shedding their sweetest blossoms 
over their happy upturned faces. The old 
man’s eyes lightened as he watched them for 
some moments ; then, turning to Tom, his 
voice full of tenderness, he said : — 

“ Carl ’s a foine lad, Mary ; ye ’ll do no 
better for Jinnie.” 

Tom did not answer ; her eyes were on the 
cedars where the crows were flying, black 
silhouettes against the yellow sky. 

“ Did I shtop ye an’ break yer heart whin 
ye wint off wid yer own Tom ? What wuz he 
but an honest lad thet loved ye, an’ he wid 
198 



Above their heads tiie brajiches twined 




BLOSSOM-WEEK 


not a pinny in his pocket but the fare that 
brought ye both to the new counthry.” 

Tom’s eyes filled. She could not see the 
cedars now. All the hill was swimming in 
light. 

‘‘ Oi hev watched Carl sence he fust come, 
Mary. It ’s a good mither some’er’s as has 
lost a foine b’y. W’u’dn’t ye be lonely 
yersilf ef ye ’d come here wid nobody to 
touch yer hand ? ” 

Tom shivered and covered her face. Who 
was more lonely than she — she who had 
hungered for the same companionship that 
she was denying Jennie ; she who had longed 
for somebody to stand between her and the 
world, some hand to touch, some arm to lean 
on ; she who must play the man always — the 
man and the mother too ! 

Pop went on, stroking her strong, firm 
hand with his stiff, shriveled fingers. He 
never looked at her; his face was now too 
turned toward the dying sun. 

Do ye remimber the day ye left me in the 
ould counthry, Mary, wid yer own Tom ; an’ 
how I walked wid ye to the turnin’ of the 
road ? It wuz spring thin, an’ the hedges all 
white wid blossoms. Look at thim two over 


201 


TOM GROGAN 


there, Mary, wid their arms full o’ flowers. 
Don’t be breakin’ their hearts, child.” 

Tom turned and slipped her arm around 
the pld man’s neck, her head sinking on his 
shoulder. The tears were under her eyelids ; 
her heart was bursting ; only her pride sus- 
tained her. Then in a half-whispered voice, 
like a child telling its troubles, she said : — 
‘‘Ye don’t know — ye don’t know, Gran’pop. 
The dear God knows it ’s not on account of 
meself. It ’s Tom I ’m thinkin’ of night an’ 
day — me Tom, me Tom. She ’s his child as 
well as mine. If he could only help me ! He 
wanted such great things for Jennie. It ud 
be easier if he had n’t saved Patsy. Don’t 
speak to me ag’in about it, father dear ; it 
hurts me.” 

The old man rose from his chair and walked 
slowly into the house. All his talks with his 
daughter ended in this way. It was always 
what Tom would have thought. Why should 
a poor crazy cripple like her husband, shut up 
in an asylum, make trouble for Jennie } 

When the light faded and the trees grew 
indistinct in the gloom, Tom still sat where 
Pop had left her. Soon the shadows fell in 
the little valley, and the hill beyond the 
202 


BLOSSOM-WEEK 


cedars lost itself in the deepening haze that 
now crept in from the tranquil sea. 

Carl’s voice calling to Cully to take in 
the Gray roused her to consciousness. She 
pushed back her chair, stood for an instant 
watching Carl romping with Patsy, and then 
walked slowly toward the stable. 

By the time she reached the water-trough 
her old manner had returned. Her step be- 
came once more elastic and firm ; her strong 
will asserted itself. She had work to do, and 
at once. In two hours the board would meet. 
She needed all her energies and resources. 
The lovers must wait ; she could not decide 
any question for them now. 

As she passed the stable window a man 
in a fur cap raised his head cautiously above 
the low fence and shrank back into the 
shadow. 

Tom threw open the door and felt along 
the sill for the lantern and matches. They 
were not in their accustomed place. The 
man crouched, ran noiselessly toward the rear 
entrance, and crept in behind a stall. Tom 
laid her hand on the haunches of the horse 
and began rolling back his blanket. The man 
drew himself up slowly until his shoulders 
203 


TOM GROGAN 


were on a level with the planking. Tom 
moved a step and turned her face. The man 
raised his arm, whirled a hammer high in the 
air, and brought it down upon her head. 

When Cully led the Big Gray into his stall, 
a moment later, he stepped into a pool of 
blood. 

204 


XV 


IN Trite SHADOW OF DEATH 
T the appointed hour the Board of Trus- 



XX tees met in the hall over the post-office. 
The usual loungers filled the room — mem- 
bers of the Union, and others who had 
counted on a piece of the highway pie when 
it was cut. Dempsey, Crimmins, and Quigg 
sat outside the rail, against the wall. They 
were waiting for McGaw, who had not been 
seen since the afternoon. 

The president was in his accustomed place. 
The five gentlemen of leisure, the veterinary 
surgeon, and the other trustees occupied their 
several chairs. The roll had been called, and 
every man had answered to his name. The 
occasion being one of much importance, a full 
board was required. 

As the minute-hand neared the hour of nine 
Demfpsey became uneasy. He started every 
time a new-comer mounted the stairs. Where 
was McGaw.? No one had seen him since 


205 


TOM GROGAN 


he swallowed the tumblerful of whiskey and 
disappeared from O’Leary’s, a few hours be- 
fore. 

The president rapped for order, and an- 
nounced that the board was ready to sign the 
contract with Thomas Grogan rfor the hauling 
and delivery of the broken stone required for 
public highways. 

There was no response. 

Is Mrs. Grogan here } ” asked the presi- 
dent, looking over the room and waiting for 
a reply. 

Is any one here who represents her } ” he 
repeated, after a pause, rising in his seat as 
he spoke. 

No one answered. The only sound heard 
in the room was that of the heavy step of a 
man mounting the stairs. 

“ Is there any one here who can speak for 
Mrs. Thomas Grogan } ” called the president 
again, in a louder voice. 

“ I can,” said the man with the heavy 
tread, who proved to be the foreman at the 
brewery. She won’t live till mornin’ ; one 
of her horses kicked her and broke her 
skull, so McGaw told me.” 

Broke her skull ! My God ! man, how do 
206 


IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 


you know?” demanded the president, his 
voice trembling with excitement. 

Every man’s face was now turned toward 
the new-comer ; a momentary thrill of horror 
ran through the assemblage. 

I heard it at the druggist’s. One of her 
boys was over for medicine. Dr. Mason 
sewed up her head. He was drivin’ by, on 
his way to Quarantine, when it happened.” 

‘‘What Dr. Mason?” asked a trustee, 
eager for details. 

“ The man what used to be at Quarantine 
seven years ago. He ’s app’inted ag’in.” 

Dempsey caught up his hat and hurriedly 
left the room, followed by Quigg and Crim- 
mins. McGaw, he said to himself, as he ran 
downstairs, must be blind drunk, not to come 

to the meeting. “ him ! What if he 

gives everything away ! ” he added aloud. 

“This news is awful,” said the president. 
“ I am very sorry for Mrs. Grogan and her 
children — she was a fine woman. It is a 
serious matter, too, for the village. The 
highway work ought to commence at once ; 
the roads need it. We may now have to 
advertise again. That would delay every- 
thing for a month.” 


207 


TOM GROGAN 


*^Well, there’s other bids,” said another 
trustee, — one of the gentlemen of leisure, — 
ignoring the president’s sympathy, and hope- 
ful now of a possible slice on his own account. 

“ What ’s the matter with McGaw’s proposal ? 
There ’s not much difference in the price. 
Perhaps he would come down to the Grogan 
figure. Is Mr. McGaw here, or anybody who 
can speak for him ? ” 

Justice Rowan sat against the wall. The 
overzealous trustee had exactly expressed his 
own wishes and anxieties. He wanted Mc- 
Gaw’s chances settled at once. If they failed, 
there was Rowan’s own brother who might 
come in for the work, the justice sharing of 
course in the profits. 

‘‘ In the absence of me client,” said Rowan, 
looking about the room, and drawing in his 
breath with an important air, ‘‘ I suppose I 
can ripresint him. I think, however, that if^^A 
your honorable boord will go on with the 
other business before you, Mr. McGaw will 
be on hand in half an hour himself. In the 
mean time I will hunt him up.” 

“ I move,” said the Scotch surgeon, in a 
voice that showed how deeply he had been 
affected, that the whole matter be laid on 
208 


IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 


the table for a week, until we know for cer- 
tain whether poor Mrs. Grogan is killed or 
not. I can hardly credit it. It is very sel- 
dom that a horse kicks a woman.” 

Nobody having seconded this motion, the 
chair did not put it. The fact was that every 
man was afraid to move. The majority of 
the trustees, who favored McGaw, were in 
the dark as to what effect Tom’s death would 
have upon the bids. The law might require 
readvertising and hence a new competition, 
and perhaps somebody much worse for them 
than Tom might turn up and take the work 
• — somebody living outside of the village. 
Then none of them would get a finger in the 
pie. Worse than all, the cutting of it might 
have to be referred to the corporation counsel, 
Judge Bowker. What his opinion would be 
was past finding out. He was beyond the 
^ reach of pulls,” and followed the law to the 
letter. 

The minority — a minority of two, the 
president and the veterinary surgeon — began 
to distrust the spirit of McGaw’s adherents. 
It looked to the president as if a “ deal ” 
were in the air. 

The Scotchman, practical, sober-minded, 
209 


TOM GROGAN 


sensible man as he was, had old-fashioned 
ideas of honesty and fair play. He had liked 
Tom from the first time he saw her, — he 
had looked after her stables professionally, 
— and he did not intend to see her, dead or 
alive, thrown out, without making a fight 
for her. 

‘‘I move,” said he, “that the president 
appoint a committee of this board to jump 
into the nearest wagon, drive to Mrs. Gro- 
gan’s, and find out whether she is still alive. 
If she ’s dead, that settles it ; but if she ’s 
alive, I will protest against anything being 
done about this matter for ten days. It 
won’t take twenty minutes to find out ; mean- 
time we can take up the unfinished business 
of the last meeting.” 

One of the gentlemen of leisure seconded 
this motion ; it was carried unanimously, and 
this gentleman of leisure was himself ap- 
pointed courier, and left the room in a hurry. 
He had hardly reached the street when he 
was back again, followed closely by Demp- 
sey, Quigg, Crimmins, Justice Rowan, and, 
last of all, fumbling with his fur cap, deathly 
pale, and entirely sober — Dan McGaw. 

“There’s no use of my going,” said the 
210 


IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 


courier trustee, taking his seat. ‘‘Grogan 
won’t live an hour, if she ain’t dead now. 
She had a sick horse that wanted looking 
after, and she went into the stable without a 
light, and he let drive, and broke her skull. 
She ’s got a gash the length of your hand — 
was n’t that it, Mr. McGaw ? ” 

McGaw nodded his head. 

“Yes ; that ’s about it,” he said. The voice 
seemed to come from his stomach, it was so 
hollow. 

“ Did you see her, Mr. McGaw } ” asked 
the Scotchman in a positive tone. 

“ How c’u’d I be a-seein’ her whin I been in 
New Yorruk ’mos’ all day ? D’ ye think I ’m 
runnin’ roun’ to ivery stable in the place.? 
I wuz a-comin’ ’cross lots whin I beared it. 
They says the horse had blin’ staggers.” 

“ How do you know, then .? ” asked the 
Scotchman suspiciously. “ Who told you the 
horse kicked her .? ” 

“ Well, I dunno ; I think it wuz some un ” — 

Dempsey looked at him and knit his brow. 
McGaw stopped. 

“Don’t you know enough of a horse to 
know he could n’t kick with blind staggers .? ” 
insisted the Scotchman. 


2II 


TOM GROGAN 


McGaw did not answer. 

“ Does anybody know any of the facts con- 
nected with this dreadful accident to Mrs. 
Grogan ? ” asked the president. “ Have you 
heard anything, Mr. Quigg ? ” 

Mr. Quigg had heard absolutely nothing, 
and had not seen Mrs. Grogan for months. 
Mr. Crimmins was equally ignorant, and so 
were several other gentlemen. Here a voice 
came from the back of the room. 

I met Dr. Mason, sir, an hour ago, after he 
had attended Tom Grogan. He was on his 
way to Quarantine in his buggy. He said he 
left her insensible after dressin’ the wound. 
He thought she might not live till momin’.” 

“May I ask your name, sir.?” asked the 
president in a courteous tone. 

“ Peter Lathers. I am yardmaster at the 
U. S. Lighthouse Depot.” 

The title, and the calm way in which La- 
thers spoke, convinced the president and the 
room. Everybody realized that Tom’s life 
hung by a thread. The Scotchman still had 
a lingering doubt. He also wished to clear 
up the blind-staggers theory. 

“ Did he say how she was hurt .? ” asked the 
Scotchman. 


212 


IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 


“Yes. He said he was a-drivin’ by when 
they picked her up, and he was dead sure that 
somebody had hid in the stable and knocked 
her on the head with a club.” 

McGaw steadied himself with his hand and 
grasped the seat of his chair. The sweat 
was rolling from his face. He seemed afraid 
to look up, lest some other eye might catch 
his own and read his thoughts. If he had 
only seen Lathers come in ! 

Lathers’s announcement, coupled with the 
Scotchman’s well-known knowledge of equine 
diseases discrediting the blind-staggers the- 
ory, produced a profound sensation. Heads 
were put together, and low whispers were 
heard. Dempsey, Quigg, and Crimmins did 
not move a muscle. 

The Scotchman again broke the silence. 

“There seems to be no question, gentle- 
men, that the poor woman is badly hurt ; but 
she is still alive, and while she breathes we 
have no right to take this work from her. 
It ’s not decent to serve a woman so ; and I 
think, too, it ’s illegal. I again move that the 
whole matter be laid upon the table.” 

This motion was not put, nobody second- 
ing it. 


213 


TOM GROGAN 


Then Justice Rowan rose. The speech of 
the justice was seasoned with a brogue as deli- 
cate in flavor as the garlic in a Spanish salad. 

“ Mr. Prisident and Gintlemen of the Hon- 
orable Boord of Village Trustees,” said the 
justice, throwing back his coat. The elabo- 
rate opening compelled attention at once. 
Such courtesies were too seldom heard in 
their deliberations, thought the members, as 
they lay back in their chairs to listen. 

‘‘No wan can be moore pained than meself 
that so estimable a woman as Mrs. Grogan — 
a woman who fills so honorably her every 
station in life — should at this moment be 
stricken down either by the hand of an as- 
sassin or the hoof of a horse. Such acts in 
a law-abidin’ community like Rockville bring 
with them the deepest detistation and the 
profoundest sympathy. No wan, I am sure, 
is more touched by her misforchune than me 
worthy friend Mr. Daniel McGaw, who by this 
direct interposition of Providence is foorced 
into the position of being compelled to assert 
his rights befoore your honorable body, with 
full assurance that there is no tribunal in the 
land to which he could apply which would 
lind a more willing ear.” 

214 


IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 

It was this sort of thing that made Rowan 
popular. 

“ But, gintlemen,” — here the justice curry- 
combed his front hair with his fingers — 
greasy, jet-black hair, worn long, as befitted 
his position, — “ this is not a question of 
sympathy, but a question of law. Your hon- 
orable boord advertoised some time since for 
certain supplies needed for the growth and 
development of this most important of the 
villages of Staten Island. In this call it was 
most positively and clearly stated that the 
contract was to be awarded to the lowest 
risponsible bidder who gave the proper bonds. 
Two risponses were made to this call, wan by 
Mrs. Grogan, acting on behalf of her hus- 
band, — well known to be a hopeless cripple 
in wan of the many charitable institootions 
of our noble State, — and the other by our 
distinguished fellow-townsman, Mr. Daniel 
McGaw, whom I have the honor to ripresint. 
With that strict sinse of justice which has 
always characterized the decisions of this 
honorable boord, the contract was promptly 
awarded to Thomas Grogan, he being the 
lowest bidder ; and my client, Daniel McGaw, 
— honest Daniel McGaw I should call him 
215 


TOM GROGAN 


if his presence did not deter me, — stood wan 
side in obadience to the will of the people and 
the laws of the State, and accepted his defate 
with that calmness which always distinguishes 
the hard-workin’ sons of toil, who are not 
only the bone and sinoo of our land, but its 
honor and proide. But, gintlemen,” — run- 
ning his hand lightly through his hair, and 
then laying it in the bulging lapels of his now 
half -buttoned coat, — “ there were other con- 
ditions accompanying these proposals ; to wit, 
that within tin days from said openin’ the 
successful bidder should appear befoore this 
honorable body, and then and there duly 
affix his signatoor to the aforesaid contracts, 
already prepared by the attorney of this 
boord, my honored associate. Judge Bowker. 
Now, gintlemen, I ask you to look at the 
clock, whose calm face, like a rising moon, 
presides over the deliberations of this boord, 
and note the passin’ hour ; and then I ask 
you to cast your eyes over this vast assem- 
blage and see if Thomas Grogan, or any 
wan ripresinting him or her, or who in any 
way is connected with him or her, is within 
the confines of this noble hall, to execute the 
mandates of this distinguished boord. Can it 
216 



“ Now^ gintlemen^ I ask you to look at the clock ” 



IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 


be believed for an instant that if Mrs. Grogan, 
acting for her partly dismimbered husband, 
Mr. Thomas Grogan, had intinded to sign this 
contract, she would not have dispatched on 
the wings of the wind some Mercury, fleet of 
foot, to infarm this boord of her desire for 
postponement .? I demand in the interests of 
justice that the contract be awarded to the 
lowest risponsible bidder who is ready to sign 
the contract with proper bonds, whether that 
bidder is Grogan, McGaw, Jones, Robinson, 
or Smith.” 

There was a burst of applause and great 
stamping of feet ; the tide of sympathy had 
changed. Rowan had perhaps won a few 
more votes. This pleased him evidently more 
than his hope of cutting the contract pie. 
McGaw began to regain some of his color 
and lose some of his nervousness. Rowan’s 
speech had quieted him. 

The president gravely rapped for order. It 
was wonderful how much backbone and dig- 
nity and self-respect the justice’s very flat- 
tering remarks had injected into the nine 
trustees — no,, eight, for the Scotchman fully 
understood and despised Rowan’s oratorical 
powers. 


219 


TOM GROGAN 


The Scotchman was on his feet in an in- 
stant. 

I have listened,” he said, to the talk 
that Justice Rowan has given us. It ’s very 
fine and tonguey, but it smothers up the 
facts. You can’t rob this woman ” — 

“ Question ! question ! ” came from half a 
dozen throats. 

“ What ’s your pleasure, gentlemen ” 
asked the president, pounding with his gavel. 

“ I move,” said the courier member, “that 
the contract be awarded to Mr. Daniel 
McGaw as the lowest bidder, provided he 
can sign the contract to-night with proper 
bonds.” 

Four members seconded it. 

“ Is Mr. McGaw’s bondsman present ? ” 
asked the president, rising. 

Justice Rowan rose, and bowed with the 
air of a foreign banker accepting a govern- 
ment loan. 

“ I have that honor, Mr. Prisident. I am 
willing to back Mr. McGaw to the extent of 
me humble possissions, which are ample, I 
trust, for the purposes of this contract ” — 
looking around with an air of entire confi- 
dence. 


220 


IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 


Gentlemen, are you ready for the ques- 
tion ? ” asked the president. 

At this instant there was a slight commo- 
tion at the end of the hall. Half a dozen 
men nearest the door left their seats and 
crowded to the top of the staircase. Then 
came a voice outside : Fall back ; don’t 
block up the door ! Get back there ! ” The 
excitement was so great that the proceedings 
of the board were stopped. 

The throng parted. The men near the 
table stood still. An ominous silence sud- 
denly prevailed. Daniel McGaw twisted his 
head, turned ghastly white, and would have 
fallen from his chair but for Dempsey. 

Advancing through the door with slow, 
measured tread, her long cloak reaching to 
her feet ; erect, calm, fearless ; her face like 
chalk ; her lips compressed, stifling the agony 
of every step ; her eyes deep sunken, black- 
rimmed, burning like coals ; her brow bound 
with a blood-stained handkerchief that barely 
hid the bandages beneath, came Tom. 

The deathly hush was unbroken. The men 
fell back with white, scared faces to let her 
pass. McGaw cowered in his chair. Demp- 
sey’s eyes glistened, a half -sigh of relief 
221 


TOM GROGAN 


escaping him. Crimmins had not moved ; 
the apparition stunned him. 

On she came, her eyes fixed on the presi- 
dent, till she reached the table. Then she 
steadied herself for a moment, took a roll of 
papers from her dress, and sank into a chair. 

No one spoke. The crowd pressed closer. 
Those outside the rail noiselessly mounted 
the benches and chairs, craning their necks. 
Every eye was fixed upon her. 

Slowly and carefully she unrolled the con- 
tract, spreading it out before her, picked up 
a pen from the table, and without a word 
wrote her name. Then she rose firmly, and 
walked steadily to the door. 

Just then a man entered within the rail 
and took her seat. It was her bondsman, 
Mr. Crane. 

222 


XVI 


A FRIEND IN NEED 

T WO days after Tom had signed the high- 
way contract, Babcock sat in his private 
office in New York, opening his mail. In the 
outside room were half a dozen employees 
— engineers and others — awaiting their in- 
structions. 

The fine spring weather had come and 
work had been started in every direction, in- 
cluding the second section of the sea-wall at 
the depot, where the divers were preparing 
the bottom for the layers of concrete. Tom’s 
carts had hauled the stone. 

Tucked into the pile of letters heaped 
before him, Babcock’s quick eye caught the 
corner of a telegram. It read as follows : — 

Mother hurt. Wants you immediately. Please 
come. Jennie Grogan. 

For an instant he sat motionless, gazing at 
the yellow slip. Then he sprang to his feet 
223 


TOM GROGAN 


Thrusting his unopened correspondence into 
his pocket, he gave a few hurried instructions 
to his men and started for the ferry. Once 
on the boat, he began pacing the deck. ** Tom 
hurt ! ” he repeated to himself. ‘‘ Tom hurt ? 
How — when — what could have hurt her ^ 
He had seen her at the sea-wall, only three 
days before, rosy-cheeked, magnificent in 
health and strength. What had happened ? 
At the St. George landing he jumped into a 
hack, hurrying the cabman. 

Jennie was watching for him at the garden 
gate. She said her mother was in the sit- 
ting-room, and Gran’pop was with her. As 
they walked up the path she recounted rap- 
idly the events of the past two days. 

Tom was on the lounge by the window, 
under the fiowering plants, when Babcock 
entered. She was apparently asleep. Across 
her forehead, covering the temples, two nar- 
row bandages bound up her wound. At 
Babcock’s step she opened her eyes, her 
bruised, discolored face breaking into a smile. 
Then, noting his evident anxiety, she threw 
the shawl from her shoulders and sat up. 

** No, don’t look so. It ’s nothin’ ; I ’ll be 
all right in a day or two. I ’ve been hurted 
224 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


before, but not so bad as this. I would n’t 
have troubled ye, but Mr. Crane has gone 
West. It was kind and friendly o’ ye to 
come ; I knew ye would.” 

Babcock nodded to Pop, and sank into a 
chair. The shock of her appearance had 
completely unnerved him. 

‘‘Jennie has told me about it,” he said in 
a tender, sympathetic tone. “ Who was mean 
enough to serve you in this way, Tom .? ” He 
called her Tom now, as the others did. 

“Well, I won’t say now. It may have 
been the horse, but I hardly think it, for I 
saw a face. All I remember clear is a-layin’ 
me hand on the mare’s back. When I come 
to I was flat on the lounge. They had fixed 
me up, and Dr. Mason had gone off. Only 
the thick hood saved me. Carl and Cully 
searched the place, but nothin’ could be 
found. Cully says he heard somebody a-run- 
nin’ on the other side of the fence, but ye 
can’t tell. Nobody keeps their heads in times 
like that.” 

“ Have you been in bed ever since ? ” Bab- 
cock asked. 

“In bed ! God rest ye ! I was down to the 
board meetin’ two hours after, wid Mr. Crane, 
225 


TOM GROGAN 


and signed the contract. Jennie and all of 
^em would n’t have it, and cried and went on, 
but I braved ’em all. I knew I had to go if 
I died for it. Mr. Crane had his buggy, so I 
did n’t have to walk. The stairs was the 
worst Once inside, I was all right. I only 
had to sign, an’ come out again ; it did n’t 
take a minute. Mr. Crane stayed and fixed 
the bonds wid the trustees, an’ I come home 
wid Carl and Jennie.” Then, turning to her 
father, she said, Gran’pop, will ye and Jen- 
nie go into the kitchen for a while ? I ’ve 
some private business wid Mr. Babcock.” 

When they were gone her whole manner 
changed. She buried her face for a moment 
in the pillow, covering her cheek with her 
hands ; then, turning to Babcock, she said : — 
“ Now, me friend, will ye lock the door ? ” 
For some minutes she looked out of the 
window, through the curtains and nastur- 
tiums, then, in a low, broken voice, she said : 

I ’m in great trouble. Will ye help me ? ” 
'‘Help you, Tom.!* You know I will, and 
with anything I ’ve got. What is it .!* ” he 
said, earnestly, regaining his chair and draw- 
ing it closer. 

" Has no one iver told ye about me Tom ? ” 
226 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


she asked, looking at him from under her 
eyebrows. 

“No; except that he was hurt or — or — - 
out of his mind, maybe, and you couldn’t 
bring him home.” 

“An’ ye have beared nothin’ more } ” 

“No,” said Babcock, wondering at her 
anxious manner. 

“Ye know that since he went away I’ve 
done the work meself, standin’ out as he 
would have done in the cold an’ wet an’ 
workin’ for the children wid nobody to help 
me but these two hands.” 

Babcock nodded. He knew how true it 
was. 

“Ye’ve wondered many a time, maybe, 
that I niver brought him home an’ had him 
round wid me other poor cripple, Patsy — 
them two togither.” Her voice fell almost to 
a whisper. 

“Or ye thought, maybe, it was mean and 
cruel in me that I kep’ him a burden on the 
State, when I was able to care for him me- 
self. Well, ye ’ll think so no more.” 

Babcock began to see now why he had been 
sent for. His heart went out to her all the 
more. 

227 


TOM GROGAN 


‘‘Tom, is your husband dead?” he asked, 
with a quiver in his voice. 

She never took her eyes Jrom his face. 
Few people were ever tender with her; they 
never seemed to think she needed it. She 
read this man’s sincerity and sympathy in his 
eyes ; then she answered slowly : — ■ 

“He is, Mr. Babcock.” 

“When did he die? Was it last night, 
Tom?” 

“ Listen to me fust, an’ then I ’ll tell ye. 
Ye must know that when me Tom was hurted, 
seven years ago, we had a small place, an’ 
only three horses, and them war n’t paid for ; 
an’ we had the haulin’ at the brewery, an’ that 
was about all we did have. When Tom had 
been sick a month — it was the time the 
bucket fell an’ broke his rib — the new con- 
tract at the brewery was let for the year, an’ 
Schwartz give it to us, a-thinkin’ that Tom ’d 
be round ag’in, an’ niver carin’, so ’s his work 
was done, an’ I doin’ it, me bein’ big an 
strong, as I always was. Me Tom got worse 
an’ worse, an’ I saw him a-failin’, an’ one day 
Dr. Mason stopped an’ said if I brought him 
to Bellevue Hospital, where he had just been 
appointed, he ’d fix up his rib so he could 
228 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


breathe easier, and maybe he 'd get well. 
Well, I hung on an’ on, thinkin’ he ’d get 
better, — poor fellow, he did n’t want to go, 
— but one night, about dark, I took the Big 
Gray an’ put him to the cart, an’ bedded it 
down wid straw ; an’ I wrapped me Tom up 
in two blankits an’ carried him downstairs 
in me own arms, an’ driv slow to the ferry.” 

She hesitated for a moment, leaned her 
bruised head on her hand, and then went 
on : — 

“When I got to Bellevue, over by the 
river, it was near ten o’clock at night. No- 
body stopped me or iver looked into me 
bundle of straw where me poor boy lay ; an’ 
I rung the bell, an’ they came out, an’ got 
him up into the ward, an’ laid him on the bed. 
Dr. Mason was on night duty, an’ come an’ 
looked at him, an’ said I must come over the 
next day ; an’ I kissed me poor Tom an’ left 
him tucked in, promisin’ to be back early in 
the mornin’. 1 had got only as far as the 
gate on the street whin one of the men came 
a-runnin’ after me. I thought he had fainted, 
and ran back as fast as I could, but when I 
got me arms under him again — he was dead.” 

“ And all this seven years ago, Tom ? ” 
229 


TOM GROGAN 


said Babcock in astonishment, sinking back 
in his chair. 

Tom bowed her head. The tears were 
trickling through her fingers and falling on 
the coarse shawl. 

** Yis ; seven years ago this June.” She 
paused for a moment, as if the scene was 
passing before her in every detail, and then 
went on : ** Whin I come home I niver said 
a word to anybody but Jennie. I Ve niver 
told Pop yit. Nobody else would have cared ; 
we was strangers here. The next mornin’ I 
took Jennie, — she was a child then, — an* 
we wint over to the city, an’ I got what 
money I had, an’ the doctors helped, an’ we 
buried him ; nobody but just us two, Jennie 
an’ me, walkin’ behint the wagon, his poor 
body in the box. Whin I come home I 
wanted to die, but I said nothin’. I was 
afraid Schwartz would take the work away if 
he knew it was only a woman who was a-doin’ 
it wid no man round, an so I kep’ on ; an’ 
whin the neighbors asked about him bein’ in 
a ’sylum an’ out of his head, an’ a cripple an’ 
all that, God forgive me, I was afraid to tell, 
and I kept still and let it go at that ; an* 
whin they asked me how he was I ’d say he 
230 



A 1/d all tills seven years ago i 





fflRr- 'i- ^' * -'V • 

A- 



N • . r \ • 


• ^ 


>* '/ 


k* 

L.’ 


•.I"- • 


Vf 


/ 

' - 

> -•> 


•/ 
• • 


4 -* 


% > 


P. 


• « 


* i-V. 


A 


»1 'T 


•L* 




I , 


V ^ 


< » 
■ . 

r 


4 ' 


• I 



k, ♦ 




" .'• *cC * ' 


t 

' «.- 




• » 

*' I 


f *— 


< ^ 

' ♦ ■ 




'• •' . 
• f \ ■ 


< 

I • 




V 


yt.'* 


. 1* 




*«V " • 

• • f * - 


?/• i!y> '• 4^^ ' ^ -• 

y '^5 -'■ 


% 




'V'v** ’• ■• •' . ’■ 

•* • ' * > 'k* J; ^ 

,* ■■ • • ;?. .'c<\'. 


T^S '••■' - 

'/V 



ft • ' 

1 



. » • . • . - ^ 

. • > i ’ . > * • 

'' yf 

' ■ < • Ci ^ '<’* », • 

• • j •*•*.’/ ji* * 

.* t 

I •, • . 




► J 


ft ^ • 


• « 


. • «• 


« * 






* I 



V* 


.»<T7 




m 




■..»*' 


t* v* - 




4 • 


-'ft- * 


• r 


'-■f. 


« ^ ^ 





^ I 


! 


» • 



A FRIEND IN NEED 


was better, or more comfortable, or easier; 
an’ so he was, thank God ! bein’ in heaven.” 

She roused herself wearily, and wiped her 
eyes with the back of her hand. Babcock sat 
motionless. 

“ Since that I ’ve kep’ the promise to me 
Tom that I made on me knees beside his bed 
the night I lifted him in me arms to take him 
downstairs — that I ’d keep his name clean, 
and do by it as he would hev done himself, an’ 
bring up the children, an’ hold the roof over 
their heads. An’ now they say I dar’ n’t be 
called by Tom’s name, nor sign it neither, an’ 
they ’re a-goin’ to take me contract away for 
puttin’ his name at the bottom of it, just as 
I ’ve put it on ivery other bit o’ paper I ’ve 
touched ink to these seven years since he left 
me. 

“ Why, Tom, this is nonsense. Who says 
so ” said Babcock earnestly, glad of any 
change of feeling to break the current of her 
thoughts. 

“ Dan McGaw an’ Rowan says so,” 

“ What ’s McGaw got to do with it ? He ’s 
out of the fight.” 

“ Oh, ye don’t know some men, Mr. Bab- 
cock. McGaw ’ll never stop fightin’ while I 

233 


TOM GROGAN 


live. Maybe I ought n’t tell ye, — I ’ve niver 
told anybody, — but whin my Tom lay sick 
upstairs, McGaw come in one night, an’ his 
own wife half dead with a blow he had given 
her, an’ sat down in this very room, — it was 
our kitchen then, — an’ he says, ‘ If your man 
don’t git well, ye ’ll be broke.’ An’ I says to 
him, ‘ Dan McGaw, if I live twelve months, 
Tom Grogan ’ll be a richer man than he is 
now.’ I was a-sittin’ right here when I said 
it, wid a rag carpet on this floor, an’ hardly 
any furniture in the room. He said more 
things, an’ tried to make love to me, and I let 
drive and threw him out of me kitchen. Then 
all me trouble wid him began ; he ’s done 
everything to beat me since, and now maybe, 
after all, he ’ll down me. It all come up yis- 
terday through McGaw meetin’ Dr. Mason 
an’ askin’ him about me Tom ; an’ whin the 
doctor told him Tom was dead seven years, 
McGaw runs to Justice Rowan wid the story, 
an’ now they say I can’t sign a dead man’s 
name. Judge Bowker has the papers, an’ 
it’s all to be settled to-morrow.” 

“ But they can’t take your contract away,” 
said Babcock indignantly, “no matter what 
Rowan says.” 


234 


A FRIEND IN NEED 


‘‘ Oh, it 's not that — it ’s not that. That ’s 
not what hurts me. I can git another con- 
tract. That ’s not what breaks me heart. 
But if they take me Tom’s name from me, 
an’ say I can’t be Tom Grogan any more ; its 
like robbin’ me of my life. When I work on 
the docks I alius brace myself an’ say ‘ I ’m 
doing just what Tom did many a day for me.’ 
When I sign his name to me checks an’ 
papers, — the name I ’ve loved an’ that I ’ve 
worked for, the name I ’ve kep’ clean for him 

— me Tom that loved me, an’ never lied or 
was mean — me Tom that I promised, an’ 

— an’ ” — 

All the woman in her overcame her now. 
Sinking to her knees, she threw her arms 
and head on the lounge, and burst into tears. 

Babcock rested his head on his hand, and 
looked on in silence. Here was something, 
it seemed to him, too sacred for him to touch 
even with his sympathy. 

“Tom,” he said, when she grew more 
quiet, his whole heart going out to her, “ what 
do you want me to do ” 

“ I don’t know that ye can do anything,” 
she said in a quivering voice, lifting her head, 
her eyes still wet. “ Perhaps nobody can. 

235 


TOM GROGAN 


But I thought maybe ye ’d go wid me to 
Judge Bowker in the mornin’. Rowan an’ all 
of ’em ’ll be there, an’ I ’m no match for 
these lawyers. Perhaps ye ’d speak to the 
judge for me.” 

Babcock held out his hand. 

** I knew ye would, an’ I thank ye,” she 
said, drying her eyes. “ Now unlock the 
door, an’ let ’em in. They worry so. Gran’- 
pop has n’t slep’ a night since I was hurted, 
an’ Jennie goes round cryin’ all the time, 
sayin’ they ’ll be a-killin’ me next.” 

Then, rising to her feet, she called out in a 
cheery voice, as Babcock opened the door, 
“ Come in, Jennie; come in Gran’pop. It’s 
all over, child. Mr. Babcock ’s a-going wid 
me in the mornin’. Niver fear ; we ’ll down 
’em all yit.” 

236 


XVII 


A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 

W HEN Judge Bowker entered his office 
adjoining the village bank, Justice 
Rowan had already arrived. So had McGaw, 
Dempsey, Crimmins, Quigg, the president of 
the board, and one or two of the trustees. 
The judge had sent for McGaw and the pres- 
ident, and they had notified the others. 

McGaw sat next to Dempsey. His extreme 
nervousness of a few days ago — starting 
almost at the sound of his own footstep — 
had given place to a certain air of bravado, 
now that everybody in the village believed 
the horse had kicked Tom. 

Babcock and Tom were by the window, she 
listless and weary, he alert and watchful for 
the slightest point in her favor. She had on 
her brown dress, washed clean of the blood- 
stains, and the silk hood, which better con- 
cealed the bruises. All her old fire and 
energy were gone. It was not from the 

237 


TOM GROGAN 


shock of her wound, — her splendid constitu- 
tion was fast healing that, — but from this 
deeper hurt, this last thrust of McGaw’s 
which seemed to have broken her indomitable 
spirit. 

Babcock, although he did not betray his 
misgivings, was greatly worried over the out- 
come of McGaw’s latest scheme. He wished 
in his secret heart that Tom had signed her 
own name to the contract. He was afraid 
so punctilious a man as the judge might de- 
cide against her. He had never seen him ; 
he only knew that no other judge in his dis- 
trict had so great a reputation for technical 
rulings. 

When the judge entered — a small, gray- 
haired, keen-eyed man in a black suit, with 
gold spectacles, spotless linen, and clean- 
shaven face — Babcock’s fears were con- 
firmed. This man, he felt, would be legally 
exact, no matter who suffered by his decision. 

Rowan opened the case, the judge listen- 
ing attentively, looking over his glasses. 
Rowan recounted the details of the advertise- 
ment, the opening of the bids, the award of 
the contract, the signing of ‘‘Thomas Gro- 
gan ” in the presence of the full board, and 
238 


A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 

the discovery by his “ honored client that no 
such man existed, had not existed for years, 
and did not now exist.” 

‘‘Dead, your Honor” — throwing out his 
chest impressively, his voice swelling — “ dead 
in his grave these siven years, this Mr. Thomas 
Grogan ; and yet this woman has the bald and 
impudent effrontery to ” — 

“That will do, Mr. Rowan.” 

Police justices — justices like Rowan — did 
not count much with Judge Bowker, and then 
he never permitted any one to abuse a woman 
in his presence. 

“ The point you make is that Mrs. Grogan 
had no right to sign her name to a contract 
made out in the name of her dead husband.” 

“I do, your Honor,” said Rowan, resum- 
ing his seat. 

“Why did you sign it.?” asked Judge 
Bowker, turning to Tom. 

She looked at Babcock. He nodded as- 
sent, and then she answered : — 

“ I alius signed it so since he left me.” 

There was a pleading, tender pathos in her • 
words that startled Babcock. He could hardly 
believe the voice to be Tom’s. 

The judge looked at her with a quick, pene- 

239 


TOM GROGAN 


trating glance, which broadened into an ex- 
pression of kindly interest when he read her 
entire honesty in her face. Then he turned 
to the president of the board. 

“ When you awarded this contract, whom 
did you expect to do the work, Mrs. Grogan 
or her husband ? ” 

‘‘Mrs. Grogan, of course. She has done 
her own work for years,” answered the presi- 
dent. 

The judge tapped the arm of his chair with 
his pencil. The taps could be heard all over 
the room. Most men kept quiet in Bowker’s 
presence, even men like Rowan. For some 
moments his Honor bent over the desk and 
carefully examined the signed contract spread 
out before him ; then he pushed it back, and 
glanced about the room. 

“ Is Mr. Crane, the bondsman, present ? ” 

“ Mr. Crane has gone West, sir,” said Bab- 
cock, rising. “I represent Mrs. Grogan in 
this matter.” 

“Did Mr. Crane sign this bond knowing 
that Mrs. Grogan would haul the stone ? ” 

“ He did ; and I can add that all her checks, 
receipts, and correspondence are signed in 
the same way, and have been for years. She 
240 


A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 

is known everywhere as Tom Grogan. She 
has never had any other name — in her busi- 
ness.” 

‘‘Who else objects to this award?” said 
the judge calmly. 

Rowan sprang to his feet. The judge 
looked at him. 

“Please sit down, Justice Rowan. I said 
‘who else^ I have heard you.” He knew 
Rowan. 

Dempsey jumped from his chair. 

“ I ’m opposed to it, yer Honor, an* so is 
all me fri’nds here. This woman has been 
invited into the Union, and treats us as if we 
was dogs. She ” — 

“Are you a bidder for this work?** asked 
the judge. 

“ No, sir ; but the Union has rights, and ’* — 

“ Please take your seat ; only bidders can 
be heard now.” 

“ But who *s to stand up for the rights of 
the laborin’ man if ” — 

“You can, if you choose; but not here. 
This is a question of evidence.” 

“ Who ’s Bowker anyhow ? ” said Dempsey 
behind his hand to Quigg. “Ridin* ’round 
in his carriage and chokin’ off free speech ? ’* 
241 


TOM GROGAN 


After some moments of thought the judge 
turned to the president of the board, and said 
in a measured, deliberate voice : — 

This signature, in my opinion, is a proper 
one. No fraud is charged, and under the 
testimony none was intended. The law gives 
Mrs. Grogan the right to use any title she 
chooses in conducting her business — her 
husband’s name, or any other. The contract 
must stand as it is.” 

Here the judge arose and entered his pri- 
vate office, shutting the door behind him. 

Tom had listened with eyes dilating, every 
nerve in her body at highest tension. Her 
contempt for Rowan in his abuse of her ; 
her anger against Dempsey at his insults ; 
her gratitude to Babcock as he stood up to 
defend her ; her fears for the outcome, as 
she listened to the calm, judicial voice of the 
judge, — each producing a different sensa- 
tion of heat and cold, — were all forgotten 
in the wild rush of joy that surged through 
her as the judge’s words fell upon her ear. 
She shed no tears, as other women might 
have done. Every fibre of her being seemed 
to be turned to steel. She was herself again 
— she, Tom Grogan ! — firm on her own feet, 
242 


A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 


with her big arms ready to obey her, and her 
head as clear as a bell, master of herself, 
master of her rights, master of everything 
about her. And, above all, master of the 
dear name of her Tom that nothing could 
take from her now — not even the law ! 

With this tightening of her will power 
there quivered through her a sense of her 
own wrongs — the wrongs she had endured 
for years, the wrongs that had so nearly 
wrecked her life. 

Then, forgetting the office, the still solem- 
nity of the place — even Babcock — she 
walked straight up to McGaw, blocking his 
exit to the street door. 

Dan McGaw, there ’s a word I 've got for 
ye before ye Fave this place, an’ I ’m a-going 
to say it to ye now before ivery man in this 
room.” 

McGaw shrank back in alarm. 

** You an’ I have known each other since 
the time I nursed yer wife when yer boy Jack 
was born, an’ helped her through when she 
was near dyin’ from a kick ye give her. Ye 
began yer dirty work on me one night when 
me Tom lay sick, an’ I threw ye out o’ me 
kitchen ; an’ since that time ye ’ve ” — 

243 


TOM GROGAN 


Here ! I ain’t a-goin’ ter stand here an* 
listen ter yer. Git out o’ me way, or I ’ll ” — 
Tom stepped closer, her eyes flashing, 
every word ringing clear. 

** Stand still, an’ hear what I ’ve got to say 
to ye, or I ’ll go into that room and make a 
statement to the judge that ’ll put ye where 
ye won’t move for years. There was enough 
light for me to see. Look at this ” — drawing 
back her hood, and showing the bandaged scar. 

McGaw seemed to shrivel up ; the crowd 
stood still in amazement. 

“ I thought ye would. Now, I ’ll go on. 
Since that night in me kitchen ye ’ve tried to 
ruin me in ivery other way ye could. Ye ’ve 
set these dead beats Crimmins and Quigg on 
to me to coax away me men ; ye ’ve stirred 
up the Union ; ye burned me stable ” — 

“Ye lie! It’s a tramp did it,” snarled 
McGaw. 

“Ye better keep still till I get through, 
Dan McGaw. I ’ve got the can that belt the 
ker’sene, an’ I know where yer boy Billy 
bought it, an’ who set him up to it,” she 
added, looking straight at Crimmins. “He 
might ’a’ been a dacent boy but for him.’* 
Crimmins turned pale and bit his lip. 

244 


A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT 


The situation became intense. Even the 
judge, who had come out of his private room 
at the attack, listened eagerly. 

“Ye Ve been a sneak an’ a coward to serve 
a woman so who never harmed ye. Now I 
give ye fair warnin’, an’ I want two or three 
other men in this room to listen; if this 
don’t stop, ye ’ll all be behint bars where 
ye belong. — I mean you, too, Mr. Dempsey. 
As for you, Dan McGaw, if it war n’t for yer 
wife Kate, who ’s a dacent woman, ye ’d go 
to-day. Now, one thing more, an’ I ’ll let ye 
go. I ’ve bought yer chattel mortgage of 
Mr. Crane that ’s past due, an’ I can do wid 
it as I pl’ase. You ’ll send to me in the 
mornin’ two of yer horses to take the places 
of those ye burned up, an’ if they ’re not in 
my stable by siven o’clock I ’ll be round yer 
way ’bout nine with the sheriff.” 

Once outside in the sunlight, she became 
herself again. The outburst had cleared her 
soul like a thunder-clap. She felt as free as 
air. The secret that had weighed her down 
for years was off her mind. What she had 
whispered to her own heart she could now 
proclaim from the housetops. Even the law 
protected her. 


245 


TOM GROGAN 


Babcock walked beside her, silent and 
grave. She seemed to him like some Joan 
with flaming sword. 

When they reached the road that led to 
her own house, her eyes fell upon Jennie and 
Carl. They had walked down behind them, 
and were waiting under the trees. 

“ There ’s one thing more ye can do for 
me, my friend,” she said, turning to Babcock. 
** All the old things Tom an’ I did togither I 
can do by meself ; but it ’s new things like 
Carl an’ Jennie that trouble me — the new 
things I can’t ask him about. Do ye see 
them two yonder ? Am I free to do for ’em 
as I would ? No ; ye need n’t answer. I see 
it in yer face. Come here, child ; I want ye. 
Give me yer hand.” 

For an instant she stood looking into their 
faces, her eyes brimming. Then she took Jen- 
nie’s hand, slipped it into Carl’s, and laying 
her big, strong palm over the two, said slowly : 

Now go home, both o’ ye, to the house 
that ’ll shelter ye, pl’ase God, as long as ye 
live.” 


246 


Before the highway-work was finished, 
McGaw was dead and Billy and Crimmins 
in Sing Sing. The label on the empty can, 
Quigg’s volunteered testimony, and Judge 
Bowker’s charge, convinced the jury. Quigg 
had quarreled with Crimmins and the com- 
mittee, and took that way of getting even. 

When Tom heard the news, she left her 
teams standing in the road and went straight 
to McGaw’s house. His widow sat on a 
broken chair in an almost empty room. 

Don’t cry, Katy,” said Tom, bending 
over her. I ’m sorry for Billy. Seems to 
me, ye ’ve had a lot o’ trouble since Dan was 
drowned. It was not all Billy’s fault. It was 
Crimmins that put him up to it. But ye ’ve 
one thing left, and that ’s yer boy Jack. Let 
me take him — I ’ll make a man of him.” 


Jack is still with her. Tom says he is the 
best man in her gang. 


BOOKS BY F. HOPKINSON SMITH 


CALEB WEST, MASTER DIVER. With 
Illustrations. i2mo, $1.50. 

GONDOLA DAYS. With Illustrations by the 
Author. 1 2 mo, $1.50. 

TOM GROGAN. A Novel. Illustrated. Crown 
8vo, $1.50. 

A GENTLEMAN VAGABOND AND SOME 
OTHERS. i6mo, $1.25. 

A DAY AT LAGUERRE’S AND OTHER 
DAYS. i6mo, $1.25. 

COLONEL CARTER OF CARTERSVILLE. 
Illustrated. i6mo, $1.25. 

A WHITE UMBRELLA IN MEXICO. Illus- 
trated. i6mo, $1.50. 

WELL-WORN ROADS OF SPAIN, HOL- 
LAND, AND ITALY ; Travelled by a Painter 
in search of the Picturesque. Illustrated. 
Folio, gilt top, $15.00. 

The Same. Popular Edition. Illustrated. i6mo, 
gilt top, $1.25. 

OLD LINES IN NEW BLACK AND WHITE. 
Illustrated. Oblong folio, or in portfolio, $12.00. 

Large-Paper Edition. Illustrations on Japanese 

paper. In portfolio (16X22 inches), $25.00, net. 


HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
BOSTON AND NEW YORK 











\ t,- 






1 


I M 


J%BS 


■ ft 






» *' 


*.> 


'J V 




r ■'; jM 


t n 


J^. 




M 






u<-. 


■V! 


•rJ 


•v' l'••i' 'll ^ 


4*" 


jm 




kW' 


v» 


li-' 


V! 




t * 




t vl 




1/J 




r^y ■'*■ 


[7 i * » t 


. k1 









'* % *0 N = ’ 

' W^"- • *■ 

;rr»ik^ t. *S' As 


s''^ PiO C' «,'’ o N' 

. *«■'* 

^ ^ <. -^•- .V, <k- 



C'sT.';'* ^ ,,,/'?/-'»* 

.-V^% °' . , ^ 

o o' : <>. 

, 




•>^ 


\^' . *0 - i ' 

a-*- »' 

° , , , ., 

LT ■»'‘ ,-;>fsr. % ^ ^ ^ /V}^'' •'> 

oS -V x0°- .-i 

'0 % r. ^ ' " 

^ V , o 

* * 



'.&h \ 




.V' ■<?■ •!>'■ ">, t 

\ r;y -t, ^ O V 

^ 0^0 \ ^ \ i fi ^ 0 X ^ ^0 

^ v'i**,^©, ,0^ <“'"•*'•?. 

-op'< • 

^ - 7 ^ '•^®; 

I '"■' ^ .• , ‘^/- ' ’’ 7 Nl’ ^ ‘'♦'t^*' ^.0^ 

aO'^ v'j^'O C- \> »v.o,, ^;. ' . ^ 

».WW/ /% ; ,x'^^'V =■'' 

- 'f '■ 

■^ '' J s'' .'A 

ON 0^ \ 

c^Nr. . ' 'P .I'X .'' ,-v^_ ^ 



■1 o 


o 
> 


■’o 0^ f !Vr 

7 ^ 


j . N .' \ 

,.0^' c ° -P “ '' ax'^ <. V I a 

« ^ 

<■ .0 O’ » 

C- 7 </ V /i ’^ **^’ •'■ 

’" a" s'^'^ %A 

a *»7 • •> 

<>* A A '^* V. 

^ _; 

O \X^’ o 

'X^ . V 1 « ^ c « ^ « 


' -xro « 0 » 

0 s 0 ■ 

A ,/ '.isY 



^ J V '' / ' 

.»''■•»■<« "* a' . 

r^W. ^ _ /V^-^ 'V 


A ^ 

o, .O"' .'^ “A" 

.» _ 5 -«SN\ 


>? ;i 

"I 

t>* V 

o o' 


1 
✓ f 


-7% 


y' 

O ✓ 

V<ov^ > 

^«■ 't.. 



» « , X/, ^ 0 N 0 

v' ^ 

^ ^ V. 

* 

,W* '. , 

5 , ^ oV’ - 

) , V ^ ,G^ ^ ^ 

.o"^ c » ’^ '■ * '<;?^ 

^ c^^ -‘ ' 

► t> 



. „ . ,"^'V' - • - 'V' 

^ ^ ^ ^y ^ '/y c^. V ^ 



^ ^ n 


^ 'V • 

-'V' V 

- V . O 0^ ° " 

ol x 0 °-.. 

>^-:> s. \ V“ 

<K i. ^' (xj 

C‘ •' V-' 'i- ' " " ^ > 

•;^ .'V ^ 

^r> fM\i's^;v//io n 


^ ^ j 


<1 a r 

^ 0 H 0 • ^ 0 ^ ^ 

t»- ^ ^ a'^ ''■ -ia 

'' '% ' f/'- 




o 



